


bound by the secrets we share

by troubledpancakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ark, Alternate Universe - Canon, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Mild Language, Multiple minor character deaths, Semi-explicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 48,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubledpancakes/pseuds/troubledpancakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ninety-seven years ago, a nuclear apocalypse rendered planet Earth unlivable, leaving only the four-hundred people on the twelve space stations as its survivors. Over three generations, these twelve nations joined together to form the unified Ark Station.</p><p>To preserve the human race, the leaders of the Ark implemented strict measures including: capital punishment for anyone over the age of eighteen, a ration system based on job placement, and the arrangement of marriages based on genetic compatibility. If the human race was to return to Earth, it had to be strong to survive.</p><p>Clarke Griffin turned eighteen and celebrated her birthday with a marriage ceremony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hell of a system

**Author's Note:**

> _This was the last night she’d sleep alone; in the morning she’d be shuffled off to a quiet ceremony where she’d hold hands with a man five years older than her (a man she barely knows. Yet, despite all of this, she puffed out her chest and lifted her chin high._ I’m Clarke Griffin, I sure as hell can handle this.
> 
> _Turning eighteen meant getting married; it meant beginning her apprenticeship in the infirmary under the careful supervision of her mother. Turning eighteen meant becoming an adult; when only yesterday she’d been a child, free to wander the space station at her own volition; free to speak her mind without being taken seriously; free to run and laugh— but now, she had to grow up, and she couldn’t help but think she was meant for so much more._

_part one;_

Ninety-seven years ago, a nuclear apocalypse rendered planet Earth unlivable, leaving only the four-hundred people on the twelve space stations as its survivors. Over three generations, these twelve nations joined together to form the unified Ark Station.

To preserve the human race, the leaders of the Ark implemented strict measures including: capital punishment for those over the age of eighteen, a ration system based on job placement, and the arrangement of marriages based on genetic compatibility. If the human race was to return to Earth, it had to be strong enough to survive.

* * *

Clarke stood alone in her room. It was the last night she’d sleep alone, in the morning she would be shuffled off to a quiet ceremony to hold hands with a man five years older than her, a man she barely knew. Yet, despite _everything_ , she puffed out her chest and held her chin high. _I’m Clarke Griffin, I sure as hell can handle this._

She had a good understanding of the computer systems. They had highly advanced programs responsible for analyzing their genetics, in addition to a thorough mental health assessment, to match partners together based on their compatibility for reproduction. She understood that the human race needed to be controlled to remain strong and healthy if the next generation was to make it to the ground. They _had_ to be, if they wanted to survive.

Her footsteps were agonizingly loud on the cold metal floor as she moved between her bookshelf and the large wire box sitting on her bed. Physical books were a luxury, and only those that had survived long enough to be preserved using new technology remained. Clarke was lucky enough to own five. She felt the weight of each book in her hands before nestling them down into the wire container, recalling the quiet moments these books had permitted.

Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of emotion, Clarke sank to the floor at the end of her bed. Her mind raced through the new expectations of her reality. She would be expected to deal with the responsibilities of her job and start a family. She would be expected to contribute to the education and preparation of the next generation to see Earth: the untouchable dream that glared back at them through the black void of space.

For Clarke, like so many other girls, turning eighteen meant getting married. It meant beginning her apprenticeship in the infirmary under the careful supervision of her mother. Turning eighteen meant becoming an adult; when only yesterday she’d been a child, free to speak her mind without being taken seriously. But now she had to grow up.

_What a way to celebrate your birthday._

* * *

Bellamy Blake leaned back against the door of the small space he called his room. A space he shared with his sixteen year old sister, who had to remain hidden away from the rest of the world, lying in wait below their feet.  _How was he supposed to protect her now?_

He knew the system. He knew once the computer matched him with a compatible genetic partner, he would be required to marry her. It was crucial that their traits be carried on into the next generation. They would be assigned a new housing unit, and that would be that. That’s how it had been for as long as he could remember.

"You’ll be fine, my boy," Aurora assured him as she held his face in her hands. He was no longer the soft six-year old boy that had rocked his baby sister after his mother had given birth.

_"Your sister, your responsibility," she said._

He was no longer the young boy that yammered on for hours about Augustus and the Ancient Roman times.

_"Augustus had a sister," he remembered._

Bellamy was a man now, hard lines and darkened eyes. He was to be a husband, and eventually a father, but how could he be a man and abandon his sister? She was his responsibility.

"You’re not abandoning her, Bellamy," his mother said pointedly. "You’ll still be able to see her, and protect her. It doesn't end with your leaving."

Bellamy sighed, his shoulders heavy, a sensation that had become all too familiar. He was getting a chance to leave home and make his own life, while Octavia remained locked away. She would never get to see the stars or the moon, or the view of Earth. She would never get to experience the things considered a rite of passage for teenage girls, like dancing around carelessly in the middle of a sweaty crowd or getting in trouble for talking too loud in the library. When did  _her_  chance come?

Bellamy picked his head up and dropped it back against the door with a forceful rap. The metal was cool against his scalp, and he gritted his teeth, pulling away from the barrier. He didn’t have a lot of belongings, any extra ration points he’d earned over the years had been exchanged for actual food. It was hard to feed three people on a two-person ration budget and now he’d have to find a way to hide Octavia and her nutritional needs from intimate prying eyes.

He sighed,  _that’s no way to start a reproductive partnership,_ marriage, _whatever you want to call it._

Bellamy gathered his remaining articles of clothing: a couple of threadbare shirts, a handful of pants and sweaters and some socks his mother had knitted for his birthday.  He stared at his pack, then glanced around the room where a small stuffed animal sat perched on a beam on the far wall. He smiled to himself, fondly remembering the time when he had accidentally pulled the head off while horsing around with Octavia and Aurora had forced him to sew it back together.

As he folded the plush toy into his clothes, he sat down on the edge of his bed.

_Tomorrow, everything would change._

* * *

Abby woke Clarke up extra early the morning of the wedding. Though the marriage ceremony was small and private, she still wanted Clarke to look presentable for her (soon-to-be) husband. She pulled out her own dress from her wedding to Jacob Griffin after Clarke's arrangements had been made, and took it to Aurora Blake for alterations.

"Bellamy will love the dress," she assured, trying to comfort a fidgeting Clarke.

Clarke ran her hands down the skirt of the dress, trying to flatten out the creases as she stared into the full-length mirror. It was a simple sleeveless, taupe shift dress with a jewel-shaped neckline, and hit just below her knees. She was much curvier than her mother had been at the time her wedding and it hugged at her waist and chest.

Abby styled Clarke’s hair into soft waves and her lips were stained a shade of red from a tube of homemade lipstick Abby had been saving for a special occasion, like today. Clarke was shaky as Abby applied the make-up, balling her fists at her sides as she stood waiting patiently.

"Perfect," Abby gushed as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Clarke frowned. “Yeah.” She couldn't help but think of how trite and trivial all the niceties were.

Her mother circled around her, drawing her close. “It’s going to be okay. Look at your dad and me, we've done just fine.”

Clarke nodded, biting back a sharp response. She didn’t want to be _just fine._

* * *

Clarke stood waiting outside the small room the ceremony was to be held in. Abby and Jake had already gone inside to meet with the official when Clarke asked for a moment alone. She sucked in a few deep breaths, trying desperately to force air into her lungs.  

The door to the room opened suddenly, and Bellamy lumbered out, hand at the top button of his shirt, trying to undo it. Clarke breathed in sharply and Bellamy realized she was standing there.

"Clarke, hi," he muttered, his face scrunched up in frustration as he finally managed to release the button, breathing in a large gulp of air.

They had only met a handful of times, twice before the match (both surprise guard inspections), and two more times since then.

She managed to twitch her mouth into a small smile. “You having a hard time breathing, too?”

Bellamy let out a choked laugh. “Yeah.”

Clarke nodded. “I’m nervous.”

Bellamy pulled his lips into a tight line. “It’ll be fine.”

The official stepped out into the hall and told them it was time to begin, Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a wary look. Bellamy held out his hand and Clarke slipped hers into his slightly clammy grasp and she trailed behind him into the room.

* * *

They were assigned to a modest flat with small kitchenette, plus a separate bedroom and bathroom off of the main living space. They had a standard video projection screen that gave them access to the film Archives and was used for the emergency news feed. Clarke had been allowed to take a few pieces of small furniture she’d bought herself over the years (ration points were much easier to come by on Alpha Station), and their bed had been a gift from Clarke’s grandmother, who had taken Clarke’s smaller bed now that her own husband was gone.

The far wall in their bedroom was lined with a bookshelf and each side of the bed donned a nightstand. They only had enough points for a kitchen table and two mismatched chairs they snagged at clear-out. Clarke had decided they could start budgeting for a couch and other items to fill up their living space.

As Bellamy held his position at the threshold, Clarke took a deep breath as she stepped through the doorway, wandering in a few feet. Bellamy closed the door behind them and stopped to see her body tensed up, standing with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Welcome home, _Princess,_ " Bellamy said with a brusque edge as he brushed past her.

Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the small counter and braced his hands on the edge.

"You hungry?" he asked, barely looking over his shoulder.

Clarke shrugged in response, watching dubiously as the man navigated the kitchen.

"The fridge is stocked, courtesy of the Millers," he stated, now leaning down in front of the small appliance. Chief Miller was his commanding officer, and Clarke remembered that he had son near her age.

"I can probably fix something up, if you want to unpack or anything like that," Clarke offered.

Bellamy rose up. “That’s okay. I don’t have much, I can get started on dinner. You should go make yourself comfortable.”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow and nodded as she started towards the door of their bedroom: her boxes were sitting in neat stacks along the wall, and she did a slow one-eighty to take in the cold white walls. They were the same cold white walls that she had in her parents unit, but this felt different, this felt _strange._

She found the box of books and bent down to lift it onto the bed. Opening it up, she pulled out the one she’d set on top: Anne of Green Gables, one of the only remaining physical copies on the Ark. Additionally, she had an Earth Skills Manual, two medical books that were required for her apprenticeship, and a haggard paperback novel. She lined up on the shelf space, staring at remaining empty space beside them. Suddenly feeling very heavy she sat down on the floor, back against the bed and she cradled her hands in her lap anxiously. There was a small knock on the door after a while, maybe a minute, maybe twenty, Clarke wasn't sure.

"Food’s ready," Bellamy informed her, his eyes flitting from where her hair had fallen in front of her eyes as she sat hunched over wringing her hands together to the half-unpacked boxes beside her. He swallowed thickly as he thought about how she must be feeling, an adult, yet still so very young and forced into this marriage against her will, because that was the law. “It’s, uh, a vegetable stir fry with red peppers, I hope you don’t mind.”

Clarke nodded with a sad smile and pulled herself up from the floor. “Sounds great.”

Bellamy sat in a rather relaxed position as he nudged around the remnants of his meal while Clarke had barely touched hers. There wasn't much conversation between the two all night aside from a small exchange about tomorrow’s events.

"I have to be at the infirmary at eight tomorrow morning."

Bellamy nodded sharply. “I have second rotation, so I’ll be at work when you get off.”

"I can leave you some dinner in the fridge."

"Okay."

The conversation petered out, leaving them in silence for several minutes. Clarke let out a heavy sigh as she moved food around, trying to make it seem like she’d eaten more than she had.

"Hey, Bellamy?" Clarke asked quietly.

"Yeah?" he replied, looking up from his plate.

"What’s your favorite color?"

A crease formed between his brows. “Uh, blue, I guess. Haven’t really thought about it.”

Clarke smiled and nodded.  _Baby steps._

They both worked together to clean up after dinner, washing their dishes and packaging up the leftovers. Clarke stuck two small wrapped portions in the refrigerator for them to have for lunch the next day.

As they headed for bed, Clarke disappeared into the bathroom. Her cheeks grew hot and her heart beat rapidly against her chest and she thought, _surely he could hear it._ She pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and paper thin tank top and returned to the bedroom. Bellamy was sitting on his side of the bed, feet still planted on the floor and he was looking at his hands. He wasn't wearing a shirt and Clarke’s eyes dragged over the muscles that stretched tautly in his hunched over position. Her feet padded softly against the cool floor and Bellamy looked up from his fixture. Clarke withdrew slightly at the feel of Bellamy’s eyes on her body. She glided over to the bed and sat down, tucking her feet beneath her and stared at Bellamy.

"We don’t have to--" he started.

"I know," Clarke interjected. His form did not go unnoticed. Clarke reached out tentatively, fingers ghosting over the ovular birthmark just above the dimples in his back she noticed as he leaned away from the bed, rummaging through his nightstand. Bellamy shivered slightly as she traced the skin, before scooting back on the bed to lean into her touch.

They sat quietly for a minute as her hands continued to explore the freckles and markings on his skin.

"Do _you_ have any scars?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Clarke frowned. “I had my appendix removed.”

Bellamy turned and crossed his legs so that they were sitting facing each other as Clarke withdrew her hands. “Can I see?”

Clarke nodded as her fingers clutched the bottom of her shirt and she pulled it up slightly to reveal a small line of darkened scar tissue contrasting against her otherwise unblemished ivory skin. Bellamy moved to touch it, looking up at Clarke first and she nodded permissibly. His fingers were calloused from many years of helping his seamstress mother and cold as they worked over the small raised tissue of the scar and Clarke felt her nerves ignite. A shiver swept through her body and Bellamy smirked a little, _the asshole._

"I-- we should go to sleep," Clarke whispered, blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Bellamy licked his lips as he withdrew his fingers and Clarke shoved her shirt back down, scrambling back to her side of the bed. She peeled back the covers before reaching for the light switch just above her headboard, and snapped off the light, “Good night, Bellamy,” she muttered.

"Good night," he answered and Clarke felt the mattress shift as Bellamy made himself comfortable, fluffing his pillow gently and flopping his head back onto it with ease.

Bellamy stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening to Clarke breathing, until he rolled over and faced the wall. Clarke grimaced in the dark before she, too, rolled away and faced the opposite wall, leaving the couple to spend their wedding night back-to-back in the dark room.

* * *

Clarke reached the infirmary just before her shift was to begin donned in her blue scrubs as she waited patiently for her mother to arrive.

"Clarke, good morning," Abby greeted her as she approached her from the hospital corridor.

"Hey, mom."

"In here, it’s Dr. Griffin," Abby said sternly.

"Yes, ma’am-- Dr. Griffin," Clarke corrected herself.

Abby looked down at her digital records and swiped through a couple of files. “Today you will be with Jackson. He will begin to walk you through some basic procedures: taking blood and urine samples, basic stitching, and administering prescriptions. I know you've finished your preliminary studies, but you _will_ spend the first month of your apprenticeship learning these skills.” She paused and saw Clarke’s look of apprehension. “You may think you've ‘mastered’ these skills after a few days, but I guarantee you there is nothing more important than knowing and understanding the human body. Knowing these basic skills could mean life or death for someone.”

Clarke was nodding somewhat absentmindedly and Abby tapped her foot. “Do you understand me, Clarke?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clarke answered.

“You aren't going to get any special treatment in here because you’re my daughter.”

“I understand, Dr. Griffin.” She frowned.

Abby handed Clarke a key card and pointed towards the exam room. “Jackson will meet you in Exam 5.”

Clarke smiled pointedly as she took the card and turned towards the exam room. Jackson greeted her warmly as she entered the room and Clarke spent the rest of the day doing exactly as Abby--  _Dr. Griffin_ had commanded: taking blood, learning the basics of stitching and shadowing Jackson as they discussed prescription medications.

Upon returning home, Clarke found the quiet of the flat sort of comforting. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a few items to whip up for dinner and bounced around the kitchen. After she had packaged up a container for Bellamy, she curled up on their bed and turned on an old movie from the Archives while she ate her own portion.

Bellamy came home late after his shift and Clarke rolled over to see his silhouette glowing in the doorway to the bathroom. His hard lines and disheveled demeanor sent a jolt of heat through her, and she squirmed uncomfortably beneath the covers. She wasn't prepared for the effect he was having on her physically. Even though he acted oblivious, he had to know. _That asshole._ He crawled into bed moments later and Clarke felt the mattress dip with the new weight. Quietly rubbing her thighs together, she sighed. After a moment she stretched out, curling her toes into the sheets.

“Clarke?”

“Hm?” she squeaked.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.” She swallowed and tried to relax her body. “I’m fine, good night.”

She could feel him studying her in the dark. “Yeah, good night.”

* * *

"So, I was thinking we ought to make a budget," Clarke brought up at dinner one night.

Bellamy grunted, mouth full of vegetables. "Hng?"

"Well, I mean, we still don't have a couch, and our apartment is still so bare. I thought, maybe, we could start saving for some things to make it more _homey_ , or something. I don't know." She shrugged.

Bellamy swallowed. "Yeah, whatever." _I'm lying to you about my ration allowance,_ he thought despairingly.

 _Don’t be so excited about it, Bellamy._ She tried to hide the rolling of her eyes. "So." She pulled her tablet up to a spreadsheet. "I put our ration allowances in this column, and I added a couple columns for items we want to get, and our food budget, obviously. We'll have to be a bit tight with food for a little while, but I think we could afford a couch next month, and maybe even some paint!"

Bellamy nodded, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach. She was clearly excited about this, and all he could do was nod with a tight-lipped smile. "Great."

Clarke went on to talk about more numbers and things, but Bellamy zoned out thinking about Octavia and how he hadn't been by to see her since they'd gotten married.

"I was thinking maybe red, or blue--" Bellamy stood up in the middle of her sentence, Clarke stopping abruptly with a frown.

"I'm not feeling too good, I think I might go to bed early."

Clarke frowned bitterly. "Oh, yeah... of course. I hope you feel better."

With that, Bellamy retreated to the bedroom, leaving a confused Clarke alone in the kitchen with her spreadsheets.

* * *

Clarke was given some free reign to do her rounds on her own after the first few weeks, with Jackson only checking on her periodically throughout the day. She was staring down at the file on her tablet as she closed the curtain around the exam table at the end of the hall. Clarke looked up with a smile. “Hi, I’m Clarke.”

The young girl perched on the exam table returned the smile hesitantly. “Monroe.”

“Well, Monroe.” She started flipping through the notes on her screen. “I see you’re about to have your marriage ceremony in a few days, so we just have a few routine blood tests.”

Clarke looked up and saw the girl’s face.

“Hey, hey, is everything okay?”

Monroe let out a small whimper, as she tried to fight back a sob. “No.”

Clarke touched the girl’s arm reassuringly. “Everything is going to be just fine, this blood test is just Ark procedure. It says in my notes you were just released from the Skybox?”

The girl nodded.

“How does it feel to be free?” She offered, trying to make small talk.

Monroe shrugged.

They were quiet for a moment as Clarke prepped the needle.

“I want to become Unviable!” The girl in the hospital gown clamped her hand over her mouth.

Clarke practically dropped the needle before turning around. “What?”

Monroe looked down at her hands, wringing them together furiously. “I-- I don’t _want_ to have kids. I don’t _want_ to get married to this man. I don’t _want_ any of it. I-- I'm sorry." She hiccuped. A tear spilled over and Monroe tried to brush it away.

Clarke’s features softened. “It’s okay, Monroe.” Setting down the needle, she grabbed the box of tissues on her work table and handed it to the girl, who took one and blew her nose into it loudly.

Clarke opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, and then closed it again. Instead, she turned back to her desk and set the box back down and grabbed her stool, wheeling it over to sit down in front of the crying girl perched on the exam table. "Monroe." Clarke reached up and placed her hand over the girl's shaky fist. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on in your head."

Monroe looked up from her hands, her expression that of a child's-- sad and confused. "I-- I don't want to get married. I-- my girlfriend is still in the Skybox and I don't want--" she struggled with the words, with a hard sigh. "I just don't want to be able to have kids. Maybe they won't make me get married if I can't have kids, right? They wouldn't do that to Daryn, right? They wouldn't match him with an Unviable?"

Clarke saw the worry sweep across Monroe's face, and and she licked her lips. "Monroe... I'm not sure--"

"Please, Missus. You're married, right? How long ago did you get matched?"

"A couple of weeks ago." Clarke sighed.

"And do you love him?"

Clarke took a deep breath. "I am still getting to know him, but he's a good man."

"Roma is a good woman-- I want to be with _her_. She turns eighteen in a few weeks. She's Unviable, she won't get matched right away, if at all," Monroe said hopefully.

Clarke nodded, she understood wanting to marry for love. She thought about Wells, and how she had felt when he had gotten matched so quickly after turning eighteen, Neva was her name. Her heart still hurt a little, thinking about what it meant for her relationship with Wells. Their lives were no longer entangled quite the same way they used to be. There was still a part of Clarke that felt that she and Wells would have made a good _match_.  She had to believe that they would have been _okay_ if it had been just the two of them. She thought about Ayleigh, and how she felt when it ended, an argument about Ayleigh turning eighteen, knowing that the Council would never let two Viable girl's waive their arrangements. On some level, Clarke knew what Monroe felt and wanted to help.

"Monroe, just let me run these tests, okay? Then I'll figure out a way to get you another appointment in two days, before your match ceremony next week. I’m going to do what I can to help you, okay?" She grabbed the girl's hands assuredly.

Monroe let out a relieved sob, smiling through her tears. "Thank you, Clarke."

Clarke gave her hands another firm squeeze before returning to her desk for the needle, and finishing their appointment.

As she readied herself to leave, Monroe stopped at the door and spun around to give Clarke a quick hug. Clarke stumbled back a small step, but returned the gesture before Monroe turned and hurried out the door. Clarke let out a slow breath as she stood in the exam room, alone, trying to figure out what she was going to do.

* * *

Wells messaged her to invite both her and Bellamy to dinner, but Bellamy was working a double-shift and couldn't join them.

Clarke sat at the table, watching Wells play idly with Neva's hair as his his arm splayed across the back of her chair. She was going on about Agro Station and the new irrigation technique that the Green's had been developing. Clarke tried to be attentive but she couldn't help but feel the twinge in her stomach any time Wells touched his wife, knowing that it used to be her. It had been a long time since it was just the two of them, they had broken up long before the matches. But that didn't stop the casual intimacy from eating her up inside.

The most Bellamy ever touched her was when they bumped elbows in the morning brushing their teeth if they ended up on the wrong side of each other (the downsides of being left handed.) Sometimes their legs would end up tangled together in the morning or he would drop his hand to the small of her back and reach over her when she tried to grab something on a shelf that was too high. Nothing quite as intimate as idle hands and casual touches, and certainly no kisses on the cheek, the hair, or the lips. It hadn't taken long for Wells and Neva to adapt to each other, and the way they moved was so natural it was killing her. Clarke smiled at Wells when Neva's com went off.

"You'll have to excuse me, Clarke." She nodded and grabbed the device, taking it into the next room to answer.

Clarke dropped her fork with a quiet clink. "She's wonderful, Wells."

He blushed with a small smile. "She is."

"You seem happy." Clarke's lip wavered a little bit.

"I am, Clarke," he replied. "I miss you, though."

"Me too, I wish Bellamy and I were as comfortable as you two seem to be."

Wells frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Clarke sighed. "Yeah, it's just-- it's just hard. He's a good man. He works hard, and he treats me well... even if he just passes everything off with a smug demeanor."

"Do you love him?"

She shrugged. "I hardly know him."

That was the truth though, things weren't particularly _bad_ between the two of them. They talked a lot more now, Clarke had asked Bellamy to teach her how to sew because she felt it would be a good crossover skill to have, good practice for medical stitches. And they'd begun to learn more about each other: Clarke learned that Bellamy loved to watch the historical documentaries on the Archives, and he'd noticed that Clarke reread her Anne of Green Gables once a month, curled up on their new couch with a steaming mug of tea. She’d learned Bellamy was more of a sarcastic asshole than he’d first appeared, and she reveled in the snippy banter that bounced between them.

Wells leaned across the table and placed his hand over Clarke's. "You guys will get there, I promise."

"I should get going." She looked down at their hands wistfully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, please tell Neva dinner was wonderful and I'm sorry I had to duck out."

Wells stood with her, pulling her into a warm hug and Clarke felt a deep seeded nostalgia well up inside of her. "Love you."

"Love you, too." He pressed a kiss into her hair and she pulled away, only turning to wave sadly before she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Bellamy slipped down the familiar residence wing of Factory Station, his boots thudding along the worn metal floors as he approached the Blake flat. With a soft practiced knock, he eased the door open and quickly shut it behind him. He saw his mother at her work table, brow creased in concentration.

"Bellamy." She smiled, looking up from her project.

"Hey, mom." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"O’s in the other room sorting buttons." Aurora tilted her head toward the back room. Bellamy smiled and shed his jacket before poking his head in.

"Hey, O.”

"Hey, big brother." She beamed up at him.

Bellamy lowered himself to the floor, mimicking O’s cross-legged position and started sifting through the pile of buttons.

"How are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. “The same, I guess. Except it’s _not_ the same without you here. I haven’t seen you in weeks, Bell.”

Bellamy grimaced. “I know, it’s been hard, O. Clarke and I have been working pretty much the same schedule, always home at the same time and I haven’t been able to get away. I told her I was working a double today.” He reached out to place a hand on his sister's knee. “I’m still taking care of you and mom, though, so don’t worry about that.”

"I’m not-- I don’t want you worrying too much about that. I just _miss_ you. We’re doing okay. You have your own family now, and that’s important. You’re going to be a father one day--"

"Not anytime soon," he interjected with a mild huff.

Octavia frowned.

"She’s not-- we haven’t--" Bellamy faltered, a bit at a loss for words.

"You haven’t what? Had sex?"

"Kissed. We haven’t even kissed."

Octavia’s mouth dropped open. “What? Bell! How long have you been married now?! Six weeks!?”

"Keep your voice down, O!"

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “What the _hell_ , Bellamy!”

Bellamy leaned back, laying his head on the floor and bringing his hands up to rub his eyes. "I know, O! Okay-- I _know_. And I mean-- it's not that I don't want to. It just hasn't come up?"

"Hasn't come up? Bellamy you sleep in the same bed as this woman every night-- wait, you _do_ sleep in the same bed, right?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Yes, O, we sleep in the same bed."

"Then what the hell, Bell?"

He pulled himself back up into a seated position, arms hugging his knees. "I don't know! She's younger than me, I just don't want to pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to do."

Octavia frowned at him. "Do you have a picture of her?"

Bellamy paused and then pulled out his tablet, after a few swipes he turned it to face Octavia, a picture of the two of them from the ceremony.

Octavia grabbed at the device, studying the picture. "Damn, she's hot."

Bellamy sniggered. "Yeah."

"No, like she's _hot_ , hot... as in, too hot for you, no wonder you're intimidated: girl is way out of your league."

Bellamy picked up a button and threw it at his sister. "Shut up, brat."

"Brat? Who's the one who pulled the head off of my doll?!"

"Oh my god, O, that was like, ten years ago. I sewed it back together!"

"Yeah, only after mom _made_ you!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

“So you like her?”

He laughed. “She keeps up with my dumbassery.”

“Thank god, otherwise you’d be doomed.”

Bellamy shook his head with a smile.

Octavia set the tablet down off to the side. "I've missed you, Bell."

"Missed you, too, O."

Bellamy sifted through a few more buttons. "I'd better get going, don't want to worry the wife."

Octavia laughed. "Yeah, yeah." They both rose to their feet, Bellamy pulling his little sister into a bear hug, lifting her up a little. "Can't. Breathe." She laughed into his chest. Bellamy pulled away as Octavia batted at his arm playfully. "Go on, then. And for the love of God, Bell, do _something_ to let your wife know you're not like, completely against physical contact or something."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Bye, O."

He stopped and said goodbye to Aurora before slipping out of the flat and headed back to his and Clarke’s apartment.

* * *

When he got home, he started peeling off the layers of his guard uniform, barging through the bedroom door to find Clarke dressed only in her bra and underwear standing by the closet. He apparently startled her and she grabbed a sweater from a hanger and pulled it to her chest to cover herself. Bellamy stiffened as he felt the familiar rush of arousal at the sight of her soft curves and lean legs. Her hair was wet and her ivory skin was glistening in the low lighting.

"Uh, sorry," he mumbled, but didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he just stared, eyes lingering on the curve of her ass. Honestly, that sweater was not really covering anything. Clarke stood there as a blush crept up across her chest, onto her neck and reddened her cheeks.

Bellamy just shrugged and licked his lips as he pulled his own shirt over his head before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He let out a low groan as his arousal pressed uncomfortably against his pants when he set his hands against the sink. _Damn_. Without hesitation, he turned on the shower and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Stepping beneath the warm stream of water, he took his hardened length in his hand and pumped vigorously, trying to stifle his groans. His release came just moments later and he made no hurry of removing himself from the shower, letting the water run cold as he pulled himself together.

Just as Bellamy closed the door, Clarke buried her burning face in the sweater she was holding. _He had to know. He had to know what he was doing to her._ The sight of his tousled after-work hair and the hardened lines of his olive skin standing in front of her as he dragged his gaze down her body made her embarrassingly wet, and she knew she didn't have very long once she heard the water from the shower begin.

She flung herself onto the bed and thrust her hand into her underwear, thumb brushing roughly against her clit, trying to get off quickly. There would be time for a more _pleasurable_ experience when she was completely alone. Clarke felt her release building in her belly as she added another finger, and her toes curled against the mattress as she spread her legs farther, her core aching for more friction, more _anything._ Her free hand flung to her mouth, biting back a breathy moan as her climax washed over her. She took a minute to slow her breathing before pulling herself from the bed to clean herself up.

She moved quickly to shimmy out of her underwear and pull on a fresh pair. Clarke heard the water shut off and she rushed to put on the rest of her clothes and climb into bed, legs still wobbly as she came down from her high.

Bellamy emerged a few minutes later, hair wet and still not wearing a shirt, damn it. Clarke felt the bed dip with his weight and he shut off his light. "Night, Clarke."

"Mhm," she hummed, _what the hell was that, Clarke?_   She mentally chastised herself.

Her face still on fire, she laid awake much longer than should have, listening to Bellamy's breathing even out. She rolled over and saw that he was facing her, hair sticking out every which way against the pillow, fast asleep. Clarke wanted nothing more than to reach out and run her fingers through his curls, and count his freckles, and really, she wanted to get good and fucked, too. But, instead she was going to bed only half-satisfied, if she was being totally honest. She sighed and closed her eyes, focusing her breathing to let sleep wash over her.

* * *

Clarke finished her appointment with Monroe, treating her with special herbs that she'd procured from a boy in Agro. They carried it in the pharmacy, but she couldn't risk someone asking questions during inventory. This wasn't exactly a _legal_ prescription.

"Your body might feel a little off for the next few days, spotting will be normal, along with any extra discharge. This shouldn't last more than a week."

Monroe nodded, she was crying a little bit from joy.

"Thank you, thank you," she said for the fourth time.

"Don't mention it, Monroe." Clarke held up a hand. "Just be safe, okay? This is the most I can do, I can't control the system."

"I know, I know, but at least my tests will come back Unviable, I have a chance."

Clarke smiled, her heart swelling a little and she was just glad she could help in some way.

Following the appointment, she met her mother in her office.

"Okay, there has been a change of plans. Today we’re going into the Skybox to take blood samples from those turning eighteen in the next six months." Clarke nodded at her mother. There were nearly a hundred kids locked up in the Skybox for crimes ranging from assault to petty theft, and at eighteen, they were given a trial to either pardon them of their crimes, or sentence them to be floated. There had been a fairly high birth rate in the last year, and that meant pardons were rare and hard to achieve, but not impossible. Just last week a girl named Harper had been pardoned and matched fresh out of the Skybox to a twenty-year old Maddox.

Ten minutes later, Clarke followed her mother as they moved from cell to cell. Eventually Abby allowed Clarke to take over drawing blood, but remained hovering over her shoulder, observing the techniques that she had nearly _mastered_ in the first week of her apprenticeship. They moved along smoothly as several guards remained stationed closely outside the cells and they were able to keep a steady pace through the thirty-two seventeen year-old delinquents.

Clarke was preparing for one of their final patients when Abby received a page, leaving Clarke alone in the cell with the guards standing outside. He was greasy looking, with slicked back hair and cold eyes that tore through her. As she readied the needle, her hand wavered just slightly, and before she knew it the boy had grabbed her wrist and twisted it back, pinning her arms as she squirmed below and Clarke felt the needle pressed against her neck. Through the scuffle, Clarke called out and the guards appeared in the cell entrance way, stun batons at the ready, buzzing with electricity. Clarke was struggling to breathe as the wiry arms held her in place.

"Where are you going to go, Murphy?" one of the guards seethed.

A third guard crossed the threshold and brought his radio to his mouth.

"Can someone please reach Guardsman Blake on the sanitation level and have him report to the Skybox guard station."

Clarke shuddered. “Oh? You got some sort of connection to the guard, too? Princess of the Royal Griffins,” Murphy spat. "What do I care?" He scoffed. "I’m going to get floated in eighteen days anyways! My genes are weak. A chronically ill childhood and an alcoholic mother? I’m not Viable!" he barked. "I don’t get to come back from this, so why does she?" He was drawling now, desperate and jittery.

Clarke flared her nostrils, as the lowlife eased his grip just enough for Clarke to gain purchase. She twisted in his arms, dragging his wrists down and slamming a knee into his stomach. He keeled over and Clarke ran from the cell, reaching the railing overlooking the rest of the prison as she tried to catch her breath. Just seconds later, Bellamy stormed down the walkway his hand wrapping around her shoulder tightly. “Are you okay?” he rasped.

She nodded, swallowing thickly, rubbing at the raw skin on her wrist from where the delinquent had held it in a harsh grip. Bellamy ran his hand roughly down her arm, thumb brushing over a small bump bruising just near the bone in her wrist, as he stepped away, just feet away from the cell where Murphy lay groaning.

"You think you’re fucking tough, asshole?" Bellamy barked, taking an angry step towards the door, and another guard flung out an arm to hold him back.

"Bellamy, I’m fine!" Clarke snapped, the trill in her voice breaking. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I’m fine."

Bellamy dragged his eyes back to Clarke, boring into her, searching for any sign of damage or fear. But Clarke was strong. He nodded, pocketing the baton that he was now somehow holding in a death grip. Clarke turn on her heels, straightening her posture and walked out of the Skybox with her chin held high. Bellamy felt his chest swell a little with _pride_ in this woman he called his wife.

Two days later John Murphy was floated. No retrial. Clarke sat in the back on the Watch Chamber with a steely resolve and clenched jaw. Afterwards, she returned to her infirmary rounds and went on with her day breathing a bit easier.

* * *

The next week, Clarke was doing rounds in the pediatric unit when an alarm went off. People began running down the hall just outside the room she was in. She excused herself from the girl sitting with her mother and poked her head out the door into the hallway that was buzzing with people. Jackson ran past and Clarke grabbed at his arm. "Jackson! What's happening?"

The look on his face told her something was wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

"Jackson--"

"Clarke," his voice warned.

At that moment, a stretcher wheeled around the corner and sped past them.

"No, no, no, no." Clarke began to hyperventilate. Her hands began to shake and every hair on her body stood on end. "Oh my god."

She chased after the emergency medic, following it toward the operating room. Her mom was on full alert, scrubbing-in in the next room. They stopped the stretcher just outside the OR while they finished prepping. The world around her was a blur and there was a nurse saying something as she was applying pressure to his abdomen. Clarke was bent over him, cupping his face gingerly with shaky hands.

"Wells?" Her voice cracked. "Wells! Wells, can you hear me?"

There was so much blood, so, _so much blood._ Clarke’s eyes scanned the body lying limply in front of her. Her fingers found a faint pulse along the inside of his wrist, his skin quickly becoming cool to the touch. Clarke licked her lips as she settled her gaze on the exposed laceration on his lower abdomen where his shirt had been ripped away, and saw the blood oozing thickly onto the stretcher. Everything inside of Clarke was screaming in panic.

 _"Clarke."_ She heard someone yell. "Clarke!"

Clarke's eyes snapped upward meeting the nurses’, withdrawing from the stretcher.

"Clarke, I need you to focus. I need you to apply pressure to this wound. I have to scrub in, can you do that?"

Clarke stood there wide-eyed, completely frozen save the violent shaking of her clenched fists. She began to nod numbly as she watched her best friend bleeding out in front of her.

"Clarke," the nurse said more sternly, commanding Clarke’s full attention. "Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Yea-- yes. Yes, I can do this." Her adrenaline kicked in and she went on autopilot. Her eyes never left Wells’ face as she took over putting pressure on the wound. It seemed like an eternity until the operating room doors opened and the doctors took him away. They told her she had to stay outside, despite her loud protests.

"No, I can't. H-he needs me, I need to be there!"

"Clarke," her mother cut in. Abby’s eyes were laced with determination as she locked gazes with her daughter. "I won't let anything happen to him, I _promise._ "

Clarke was crying now, and her world seemed to shrink as they disappeared behind the doors. She stepped backwards until her back hit the wall and she sunk down, burying her head in her blood soaked hands.

"My son. Where is my son?!" Clarke's head shot up, and she saw Thelonious shoving his way through the crowd of guards and nurses that had gathered around the waiting area.

She heard one of the nurses respond. "He's still in surgery. He's lost a lot of blood though, Chancellor."

"Wha-what happened?" he heaved.

One of the guards pulled him to the side, and Clarke craned her neck to try and hear.

"Wells was assaulted on his way home from Records. A kid with a knife. We have him in lock up, but we can't get him to talk. We're pretty certain he's involved in the Coalition. He's not giving up any names, but we know this was a warning, Thelonious."

Thelonious' face hardened. "They went after my _son_ , they'd better pray to God that I don't find them."

Clarke's heart dropped. If this was about politics. If Wells lost his life because of politics. God, what was she going to do without him?  _Fucking politics._ An angry fire grew bubbled up to her chest as she seethed with ragged breaths.  _"Fucking politics."_

The hours passed and Clarke had pulled herself to her feet, pacing the medical corridor.

"Clarke," one of the attendants, Malia, urged her. "Please, go rest. You've been here all day."

She frowned and snapped at the attendant, "I'm not going anywhere!"

At that moment, a light began flashing over the door and Clarke looked around trying to figure out what was happening. "What's happening, Malia?"

Malia looked at her with a clenched jaw and knowing eyes. The light stopped and a moment later her mother emerged from the operating room, peeling off her gloves and pulling at her robes. Everything began to move in slow motion, Abby's hand on Thelonious' face; Thelonious crumpling to the floor, wailing. Abby met Clarke’s eyes and gently shook her head. Clarke felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and she shook her head, unwilling to believe what seemed like the impossible. “N-no.”   

The room seemed to turn on its head and everything went white.

* * *

Clarke arrived back at their flat, body still shaking and her scrubs still covered in his blood. Everything felt like it was closing in around her and her breaths came raggedly as she walked to the bedroom in a daze, stripping off the soiled scrubs and tossing them in the trash. She staggered to the bathroom loudly, the noise rousing Bellamy from bed. "Clarke?" he mumbled sleepily. The sound of the shower turning on answered and he sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he rubbed his eyes.

Clarke stood below the steamy stream of water, manically scrubbing her hands and body, leaving her skin red and raw. She tried desperately to wash away the memories of Wells lying on that bed, the blood soaked t-shirt they had ripped away from his body, the look on her mother’s face as she emerged from the OR, the painful wailing from Thelonious. Tried to wash away the hollow ache that filled her chest. She forced herself to control her breathing by slowly naming each of the bones in the human hand; anything to keep her from completely breaking in two.

Stepping out of the shower she wrapped a towel around herself and moved back into the bedroom, the cool air hitting her damp body and making her shiver. Clarke fumbled with her clothes, not caring that she was exposing herself fully to her husband, still so much a stranger to her, lying in bed behind her. Finally dressed, Clarke peeled back the covers of their bed and crawled in. As she stared up at the ceiling, her breathing became shallow and her body shook violently. She felt Bellamy turn over to face her.

She choked back quiet, tear-less sobs with a clenched jaw.

"Clarke?" he whispered.

"I-- I'm," she heaved. "I'm fine." A single tear betrayed everything she was saying as she tried furiously to brush it away.

He reached out in the dark and his fingers brushed against her bare arms. She shook under his touch.

"I couldn't--" Her voice broke. She pressed her forearm against her eyes and gritted her teeth as everything inside of her shattered. "He's dead."

She was crying now, sobs wracking through her body fully and tears spilling out and Bellamy tugged on her wrist. He adjusted himself in the bed and closed the all too familiar distance between them as he enveloped her against his chest, despite her trying to twist away. Wrapping his arms around her, he had one hand carded in her hair, stroking it gently with his thumb, and the other splayed on her back rubbing soft circles in an attempt to calm her.

She cried until nothing else fell from her eyes, her body still heaving until she had no energy left and Bellamy felt some of the tension melt under his embrace. Her breathing eventually evened out and he could tell she'd managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

Bellamy was awake now and he was supposed to work another grave shift. It was nearly time for him to go, but Clarke was still clutching to him and Bellamy felt no urgency to disengage. He shifted slowly, enough so that he could turn and reach his communication device that sat on the nightstand. He punched out a short message to his shift leader and set it on the mattress beside his pillow.

He laid awake, Clarke's body pressed against his, skin burning on contact. This was the most intimate they had ever been and though Bellamy wished it was under different circumstances, he didn't wish it away. Clarke was soft and warm and her face was buried in his chest. A few hours passed and Bellamy remained still, studying the lines of Clarke's face and he idly played with her hair. She stirred against him and her fingers were stretching out, pressing into his chest as she shifted under his hold.

"Bellamy?"

It was so soft, he almost didn't hear it, even in the dead quiet of their dark room.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Please don't leave me," she murmured, her chin tilted up to look at him with wet eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Princess." He placed a soft kiss to her forehead, their first, and she shuddered. A small noise escaped the back of her throat as she twisted in his arms and backed herself against him. Bellamy was unsure what to do with his hands until he felt a tug on one and she was pulling his arm to secure itself around her waist, keeping her hand pressed hotly on top as she squirmed a little and her body relaxed into him.

Her head was settled just below his chin and he buried his face in her hair, pressing a hot opened mouth kiss into her tangled curls.

"Thank you," she whispered, a strangled sob caught in her throat.

* * *

In the week that followed Wells' death, Clarke stayed away from work. Abby told her to take a few days, but then she needed to return to her training.

When Bellamy left for work and Clarke would just hide away under the covers. And he returned, he found her in the same position. Each night, she folded herself into his side and Bellamy would hold her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Abby had tried to call Clarke several times, but she refused to speak to her mother. There were laws about blood allowances, and Wells had lost too much. Abby would have been floated if she had made an exception, no matter her relation to the boy on her operating table. Clarke knew that, but still, she hated her mother for not saving him.

There was something unspoken happening between them, Clarke's fingers entwining his as they laid in bed together, fitting into each other like a puzzle. Bellamy had taken to placing comforting kisses on her forehead, or into her hair, as they moved around the apartment. It was as if some sort of switch had been flipped and suddenly they were intimate.

As each day passed, Clarke was little bit more okay. They learned that the kid that had stabbed Wells had been sent to solitary lock-up because he was under eighteen. Bellamy wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest as her body stiffened listening to the news feed.

"Wells is dead. Wells is dead because that kid has been manipulated into thinking that somehow this, this _Coalition_ \--” she practically spat out the word. “Has all the answers to the Ark's problems."  Clarke turned in Bellamy’s hold, burying her face into his chest.

"I know, Princess, I know," he whispered into her hair.

He pushed her back and held onto her shoulders, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Fear is a demon, Clarke. Close your eyes, and tell yourself you’re not afraid. That’s how you slay the demon.”

Clarke swallowed, but nodded and puffed her chest out a little. With her chin high, she took a deep breath and turned to continue on with her daily tasks. Bellamy watched her for a moment, reminding himself to thank his mother for the words.

The week passed and Clarke began to return to normal. She was smiling more, laughing, even. She would still stop by the library each afternoon, wandering through the room that contained the vast majority of physical books remaining on the Ark. It was here that six-year-old Clarke and Wells had curled up in dark corners reading to each other. It was here that Clarke had helped Wells with his stutter, and Wells had first kissed her when they were thirteen. She never stayed too long though.

She finally returned to work, only speaking to her mother with a tone of cold formality. Her jaw clenched and lips tight.

"Yes, Dr. Griffin."

"Anything else, Dr. Griffin?"

"Thank you, Dr. Griffin."

But, home was actually starting to feel like _home_. Bellamy began to look forward to the evenings they both had off from work and they could put on an old movie from the Archives and curl up together on their new couch, Clarke sketching sometimes as they watched.

Three weeks after Wells died, Clarke came home to find Bellamy in the kitchen, dinner almost finished. His back was to her as he worked over the stove and she found a place by his side and touched his arm gingerly. “Can I do anything to help?”

Bellamy turned and kissed her forehead. “Nah, I’m almost done here. You can go change, if you want.”

Clarke leaned into his side, pressing her mouth against his chest and then rolled away from him.

"Do you want to watch _Singin' in the Rain_ , tonight?" she called from bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind her.

She heard Bellamy laugh. "Again?"

Clarke smiled to herself. "I have a thing for Gene Kelly. Sue me!"

Bellamy, of course, put up no fight. He didn't really mind the singing and dancing all that much. Clarke had nearly fallen asleep, nestled into his side as the movie finished when it was time for Bellamy to go to work. He shifted, trying to lift her gingerly.

"Clarke," he whispered. "I have to get ready for the grave shift, Princess."

All he got in response was a sleepy groan and Clarke burying her head into his shirt, Bellamy just laughed. "Claaaarke," he whined.

Clarke finally pulled herself up, her hair frizzy and tangled, sticking out in all different directions with a grumpy expression on her face. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. He laughed again as he stood up from the couch. She trailed behind him as they entered the bedroom, and Clarke changed quickly for bed as Bellamy put on his guard uniform. She crawled onto the end of the mattress, tucking her feet beneath her as Bellamy pulled on his jacket and began fastening his buttons.

“Bellamy?”

“Hm?” he grunted.

“Can I kiss you?” She cleared her throat and clarified, “Like, _kiss you_ , kiss you?”

Bellamy’s fingers paused against his top button and he turned his head slowly to look at his wife. “I, uh, yeah, of course,” he stammered. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to Clarke.

Clarke shifted so that they were facing each other. She brought her hand up timidly to his face, dragging her thumb along his jaw, and pressed her lips to his delicately.

It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with her or that he didn't want to kiss her. But, this was new territory for the two of them, and he didn't want to push her. Bellamy’s hands remained at his side as she moved her lips gently against his. They were soft and she smelled so good and, Bellamy wanted nothing more than to push her back against the mattress to press his full weight against her.

He felt her sigh against him and then his hand flew to the back of her head, cradling it as he deepened the kiss. His tongue ran along the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth, their teeth knocking together as their kiss became needy; Clarke feeling heat spread through her core. She had just carded her fingers into Bellamy's hair when he pulled away abruptly. “Clarke,” he rasped.

Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were swollen as she panted. “Hmm?”

“I have to go now.” He finally opened his eyes and saw the lust in her gaze.

She nodded as she pulled her hands away, brushing her fingertips along his jaw and the corner of his mouth.

"Rain check?" he offered hopefully.

Clarke just smiled and cupped his face gently with another sweet kiss and then pushed him away playfully with a mock salute. "Get to work, Cadet."

Bellamy ran his fingers through his hair and lifted himself from the bed, slipping out of the apartment with a smile plastered on his face.

* * *

They passed each other the next morning as Bellamy finished his shift and Clarke finished breakfast.

His hands slid silently around her waist as she stood at the sink and he buried his face in her hair, mouth finding a sensitive spot just below her ear. She gasped lightly. "Bellamy!"

"Hmm?" he teased, peppering kisses up her jawline as she turned into his embrace.

Clarke sighed and she turn to face him. "Now _I've_ got to go."

Bellamy pouted as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Rain check?"

Bellamy laughed and kissed her, nipping gently at her bottom lip. Pulling back, he rolled his eyes and tilted his head toward the door. "Go on, then."

Clarke gave his hand a firm squeeze and escaped the embrace he had her locked into against the counter.

"Bye!" she called out in a sing-song voice.

* * *

"Clarke, I need you to take the blood samples to the lab and tell them it's a Level One priority." Abby held out a tablet and Clarke raised her eyebrow at it.

"Why is it Level One?" Clarke asked, taking it from her mother.

"That's classified, Clarke."

Clarke pursed her lips. "Mom--"

"Dr. Griffin," she corrected her. "Now, please."

Clarke sighed and retreated from the office, tucking the tablet under her arm. She knew she wasn't cleared to view the documents. She knew she was supposed to hand over the file to the lab attendant and be on her way. But, Clarke was too much like her mother, and she veered off the main hall into a small curve in the walkway where the lighting had been minimized to preserve power. Quickly pulling up the most recent file after unlocking the screen (Abby predictably used the same passcode as their safe at home) she scanned the document for key words: Viable; expedite; float; forty-eight hours.

A soft thudding against metal floors echoed through the hall. Clarke exited the program and locked the tablet, holding it tight to her chest, hands shaking. The blood samples were being used to test hormone levels that determined viability status of the seventeen year old delinquents in the Skybox, and those who were declared viable were to be expedited out of the system within the next two days.

What did it mean? Clarke's mind was reeling, she knew the importance of healthy births to prepare for the next generation to see the ground, but at what point did that make their lives any more valuable?

Twenty minutes later she handed over the file to the lab attendant and headed back towards the med bay. Impulsively she redirected her route and headed for the engineers quadrant to see her dad. As she reached the door to his office Clarke could hear raised voices.

"Abby, they have to know!"

"It's bigger than that, Jake, and you know it! If the people find out, there will be panic and they'll turn on each other! There will unrest throughout the Ark. God, Jake, the outer stations are already unhappy with the chancellor and the new ration policies as it is. Do you think this will make things any better?"

"And you think sending a hundred kids to the ground is the way to do that?" Clarke heard her father's voice bark back at her mother.

_The ground?_

"Jake, their crimes and Unviable status have made them the best candidates for this mission! We have three weeks until our launch window,” Abby said, a steely look in her eyes.

"It's a suicide mission, Abby! What we need to do is give the news about the system fault and explain the oxygen situation. There has to be a solution other than sending those kids to certain death!"

Clarke could see them through a crack in the blinds cover the small window on the door: Jake was seated in front of Abby and she could see the worry on his face. Jake stood and stared down his wife. "Those kids will die. And it will have been _you_ who sent them down there, Abby.”

"And if they don’t do this we're all going to die up here anyways."

Jake brushed past her, heading for the door. Clarke dragged herself away from her hidden position and tried to make it around the corner before she was seen.

* * *

Clarke paced in their flat as Bellamy sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Clarke--"

"And the twisted thing is that they think this is fair, like the ability to have children somehow dictates your worth over someone else's life. They're kids, Bellamy!" She shrugged out of her sweater and threw it on the floor. "Some of those kids were only locked up for stealing food or medicine because they couldn't afford the ridiculously high ration prices that Alpha Station dictates."

"Clarke."

"--and they've been doing their time, paying their dues. But because they can't fucking have kids that means that somehow they’re expendable?!"

Bellamy finally rose from his seat and grabbed Clarke's wrists.

"Clarke!"

Clarke's mouth snapped shut. Bellamy was now standing inches away and her pulse had quickened, not just from the frenzy she'd worked herself into from anger. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. They stood there staring at each other, pupils blown wide.

Unsure of who moved first, Bellamy's hands were holding her face and Clarke's flew up to to grab his wrists as he walked them back against the wall. His mouth was fully on hers, taking her bottom lip between his teeth with a small tug. A breathy whimper escaped her mouth as Bellamy leaned his weight against her, grinding his hips into hers.

Clarke dropped her grip on his wrists to skirt below the hem of his shirt and press her fingers against the hot skin above his waistband. Bellamy had carded his fingers into her hair with one hand and moved to bite and suck down her throat as Clarke nudged one leg around his, urging him forward. With his free hand he grabbed underneath her, lifting her up. She matched his efforts with a small jump, wrapping both legs around him instinctively and pressed her hands against his chest, grappling with the fabric of his shirt.

She dug her heels into his ass in frustration and he pulled back momentarily to remove his shirt in one swift movement before returning his mouth to hers, his tongue sliding between her lips to taste her. Her hands were electricity against the taut skin of his chest and she wanted more: more friction, more heat, more--

 _"Bellamy,"_ she panted between kisses.

He groaned against her and secured his grip as he pulled her away from the wall and carried her to their bedroom and dropped her down on the mattress. She scrambled to a seated position and hurried to remove her own shirt, Bellamy's eyes widening at the sight of her soft, supple breasts. It wasn't that he hadn't seen her in various states of undress, but god, this was different. She was _giving_ him everything, and he wanted it with every fiber of his being.

Bellamy settled himself between her legs as she lay back down, one hand planted on the mattress, the other spread wide along her rib cage, thumb brushing along the underside of her bra. Clarke breathed in sharply as he rolled his body against hers; she could feel him hard and pressed against her core. They were still wearing too much clothing.

"Pants," she managed, and Bellamy helped lift her hips enough to shimmy her pants down and kick them off. He leaned back and undid his own belt and pants, and then he returned to her, sucking and licking into the valley between her breasts. Clarke grasped at his hair as she squirmed beneath him, her core throbbing with want, with _need._ She pulled at him, wanting him to meet her gaze.

"Please, Bellamy," she whined. He removed his underwear and Clarke pulled herself up to reach behind and unclasp her bra, tossing it away. Bellamy’s fingers played with the thin fabric of her underwear and he looked at her.

She bit back on her bottom lip, nodding. _"Yes."_

Bellamy dragged them down painfully slow over her milky thighs and he came back up to her in an excruciating pace, carefully dropping hot kisses along her inner calf and thigh, stopping just short of where she wanted him. She felt his breath ghost across her cunt and she writhed with desire, arching her back to try and find friction.

"Bellamy, _please_ , I need you now, there's time for that later."

He pressed his tongue heavy against her slit, swirling it over her sensitive bundle of nerves once, before continuing his trail. He moved much quicker this time, peppering kisses over her stomach, her collar bone. He stopped just briefly to take her earlobe between his teeth and pull gently, Clarke moaning in response. She felt his length firm and velvety against her stomach and she reached her hand between them to touch him.

Bellamy dipped his head slightly as her fingers brushed over the tip, and he felt her guide him to her entrance and he pressed into her shallowly. Clarke dug her nails into his back and hitched her legs up higher against him as she took him in slowly.

He buried himself inside her and dropped his head to her shoulder as he began to rock his hips in a rhythmic motion. Clarke met him with each thrust, circling her hips slightly as their breathing became more frantic and irregular. Bellamy brought his hand down to cup one of her tender breasts, rolling her nipple between the pads of his thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Clarke," Bellamy breathed, voice husky and deep.

"Gods, Bellamy." She bit back a scream as he adjusted his angle, so that he was hitting her clit with each thrust of his hips. She felt her release building in her core, her toes curling with pleasure as Bellamy continued to pound her into the bed.

His movements became jerkier as Clarke clenched around him. She reached between them and ignited her climax, letting it wash over her as he chased his own. With a final thrust, he released himself inside of her and remained hovered over her, panting and not wanting to move.

Bellamy finally picked up his head and saw that Clarke was watching him, and then her hand was pressed to his face, fingers tangled in his curls and stroking the soft stubble along his jaw. They were covered a thin layer of sweat, and Bellamy finally shifted to pull himself out of her. Clarke whimpered at the sudden absence, and Bellamy let out a breathy laugh. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling basking in the euphoria, and he felt Clarke shiver beside him.

"Here," he lifted himself up and pulled back the covers, allowing both of them to curl up beneath the warmth of the blankets. Clarke leaned over and nestled herself against him, pressing her nose into his side. He wrapped himself around her, fingers curled around her upper arm as their legs tangled together.

He felt her sigh into his skin and he smiled, pulling her closer.

"Why did we wait so long to do that?" he breathed.

Clarke laughed and her body vibrated against him, and she pressed a soft kiss onto his rib cage.

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he rolled onto his side so they were facing each other.

"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out." His eyes searched hers. "Together."

She nodded and kissed him, softly this time, as if they had all the time in the world.

* * *

The next morning, Bellamy woke slowly, senses coming to life one at a time. After a moment he registered a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a moment to rub his eyes and run his fingers through his hair. He stood and stalked over to the dresser, grabbing a pair of sweatpants before venturing out towards the smell.

Bellamy was greeted pleasantly with the sight of Clarke standing at the counter with her back to him. She had pulled her hair up into a messy bun and she wasn't wearing anything save the over sized t-shirt he knew had come from his side of the closet.

Bellamy stood, admiring the view for a quiet moment before taking a place behind her. His fingers danced under the hem of the shirt, and she jumped slightly at his touch. Almost instantly, though, she leaned back into him and Bellamy dropped his lips to the exposed skin on her shoulder. Clarke turned her face into his messy curls and hummed.

"Good morning," she murmured.

Bellamy smiled against her skin. "Good morning, beautiful." Clarke felt his thumbs rubbing circles into her skin just above her underwear.

Clarke turned slowly so she could face him, she pressed a open palm to his bare chest and nodded towards a plate near the stove across the kitchenette. "I made breakfast."

Bellamy dipped down, peppering kisses along her jaw, and nipping at her earlobe. Clarke giggled and squirmed a little. _"Bellamy."_

"Clarke." He pulled back, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I have to go talk to my dad today," she stated.

"Mhmm," Bellamy hummed as his mouth had return to her skin, sucking at her pulse point and she inhaled sharply.

 _"Bell!"_ She laughed.

He pulled away with a sigh. "I know you're talking, but all I hear is _have sex with me._ "

Clarke gasped and slapped at him playfully. "Bellamy, I'm serious."

"So am I!" His hands grabbed under her and lifted her up, Clarke's instinctively wrapping her legs around him to steady herself as he perched her on the edge of the counter. Bellamy set a hand on either side of her to brace against the island and he looked at Clarke expectantly.

 _Oh, what the hell._ Her features softened and she shook her head with a small smile before threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him forward into a kiss. Bellamy rolled his body up, and deepened the kiss urgently, swiping his tongue across the seam of her lips and he felt Clarke sigh as she accepted, their tongues moving against each other.

Bellamy's hands were under her shirt again, carefully sliding up the length of her torso and tracing the underside of her breast. Her body arched at his touch and she dropped her hands down to the hem and pulled back from their embrace briefly to lift the shirt over her head.

Bellamy dropped his mouth to her breast, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking as Clarke threw her head back and ran her fingers through his dark tresses. He worked slowly, his hands exploring the expanse of her back and just over the curve of her ass. He licked a hot stripe up the valley of her breasts and Clarke moaned as she pulled at Bellamy's hair.

Bellamy let out a husky laugh. "That feel good?"

Half-lidded, Clarke gazed back at him with a lazy smile. Bellamy hooked his fingers around the material of her underwear and slid it over her thighs, Clarke lifting herself slightly to allow it. She braced herself against the counter as Bellamy pulled her leg over his shoulder, placing a chaste kiss into her thigh before pressing his tongue heavy against her slit.

Dragging it against her folds, he pulled back. _"There will be time for that later,"_  he recalled with a smirk, and Clarke scrunched her nose up at the man with his head between her thighs.

“Get to work, _Cadet,_ ” she teased, and Bellamy answered by biting gently into her thigh. Clarke swatted at him. With one hand gripping her hip, Bellamy slipped the other between her legs and into her wet cunt.

Clarke threw her head back and shuddered as the pad of his thumb brushed her clit. He pumped slowly, dragging his nails along every sensitive spot. He curled a finger up to reach a spot inside Clarke she hadn't quite discovered herself yet, and she jerked at the energy that sizzled through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Bellamy flicked his eyes up and saw her chest heaving as she palmed her own breast, rolling her nipple with the pad of her thumb and forefinger. Bellamy felt the twitch of his already hardened cock encased in his sweatpants.

Bellamy took the small bundle of nerves into his mouth and swirled his tongue in small figure eight shapes and Clarke bucked her hips, aching for friction.

" _Ahh_ \-- aha, Bellamy," she panted. "M-more, please."

His fingers moved quicker, pumping in and out steadily. The roughness of his calloused hands created a sensation Clarke was _all_ for. With a final thrust, Clarke cried out and Bellamy felt her walls spasm around his fingers.

Clarke came down from her high slumped back against the counter, gripping at Bellamy's shoulders for purchase. Her legs went limp around him and he leaned in with a sated laugh. "Well, then." His breath was hot against her collarbone.

She took another moment, letting the shaky feeling in her legs settle before she brought her finger to his chin, lifting him to look at her. He took a small step back and Clarke noticed the tented bulge in his pants.

"Hey," she whispered and licked her lips. "You're up, cadet."

He met her eyes, looking absolutely wrecked and she slid from her position on the counter and circled around him, Bellamy stumbling back. He hit the edge of the counter as Clarke dragged his sweats down and Bellamy stepped out of them, his erection springing up against his torso. Clarke moved closer, and ghosted her fingers along the underside of his erection making Bellamy grunted. Her thumb brushed along the head and she brought it to her mouth, glistening with pre-cum. Bellamy nearly came just from the woman in front of him sucking his juices off her thumb with a soft pop.

 _"Clarke,"_ he whimpered, and she smirked devilishly before dropping to her knees in front of him. _Oh my god_ , he clenched his jaw as he felt her grab at the base of his cock and work her hands upward, slowly, at first.

Bellamy gripped the counter with one hand and threaded his fingers into her hair with the other. He used his hold to guide her as her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and began to suck. All Bellamy could hear was the sucking and licking against his throbbing erection as she picked up her speed. His breath quickened as he neared the edge, teetering as she lightly scraped her teeth against him and he couldn't help but moan. _"Clarke. Oh my g-god, I am so close."_

She hummed in response and Bellamy jerked as he came, pulling Clarke off as his seed spilled between them. Clarke glanced up smugly, brushing a bit of the liquid from the corner of her mouth.

"Shit, Clarke."

She rose from her position, dragging her nails up his abdomen as she stood.

"Well, then." She smirked.

"Mhm," Bellamy breathed.

Clarke raked her eyes over his body. "We should get cleaned up."

"What about breakfast?"

Clarke laughed. "It's cold by now. What's another fifteen minutes?" She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. They spent the next twenty minutes scrubbing each other all over and laughing as Bellamy managed to get soap in his eyes and Clarke nearly fell on her ass.

They dressed after they finished getting cleaned, and Clarke reheated their breakfast to eat on the couch. Clarke tucked her toes under Bellamy's thighs, curled against the cushion and Bellamy had an arm rested along the back, playing with one of Clarke's stray curls.

"I really do have to go talk to my dad."

Bellamy nodded. "What are you gonna say?"

Clarke shrugged. "That I know about the ‘mission’? That I'm on his side?"

"I think your mom already knows you're not on _her_ side," Bellamy chuffed.

Clarke frowned. "Yeah."

Bellamy leaned over and pressed his lips gently against hers. "Whatever you do, just be careful."

"Yeah, okay," Clarke replied, brushing her hand against his cheek as he pulled away.

* * *

Clarke stood in front of Jake's office, and with a deep breath she rapped on the door firmly three times.

"Yeah?" She heard him call out, as she eased the door open.

"Dad?"

"Clarke, sweetheart, come in." He waved at the chair opposite his desk.

Clarke smiled and sauntered over, dropping into the seat. He was bent over his tablet, eyes flitting from the small screen to the larger computer screen propped up to the left of him. She remained silent for a moment as he finished up his current train of thought.

"What's up, kiddo?" He finally looked up at her and locked his device.

Clarke didn't know where to start, she opened her mouth as though to talk but then shut it again.

"Is everything okay?" Jake frowned.

"I know about the mission," she finally blurted.

She saw the realization wash over her father's face. "Clarke--"

"No, Dad, this is ridiculous! They can't just sent a hundred kids to the ground just to save a month of oxygen. That's absurd!"

"Clarke--"

"Just because they can't have strong, healthy children: you send them to Earth, to what? To die, Dad-- you're sending them there to die!"

 _"Clarke!"_ he snapped, and Clarke recoiled at his raised voice. "Sweetheart, there is so much more to it than you know." His tone softened.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Jake Griffin sighed and stood, pushing his chair backwards with a painful screech. He began to pace. "There's a problem with the oxygen system. The team I've been working with discovered it. We've just months left."

Clarke's jaw dropped. "B-but, but we're supposed to have enough for another generation, there's--"

"Don't you think I know that, Clarke?" Her dad pressed, "I don't want to send these kids down either, but a hundred kids means another two months of oxygen. It means we might have enough time to figure out how to solve this problem. Your _mom_ thinks that this is the only solution."

"And what do you think?" her voice was pointed.

"I think we ought to tell the people, I believe that there will be people ready and willing to sacrifice for the greater good. I believe that there are people out there that will understand, that will want to preserve the lives of these children."

Clarke felt sick. "So people die either way, there's no winning."

Jake shook his head sadly. "We have to ensure that we survive this, Clarke."

Clarke's eyes found his, holding a firm gaze. "So what are you going to do? I want to help."

"No," he growled. "You can't have any part of this, Clarke. They'll float you."

"They'll float _you_ dad! Going against the council is treason!"

"I have to do what I feel is right," he said with finality. "I think you should get going."

"But--"

"Good-bye, Clarke."

Clarke brushed away a tear angrily and stood up from the chair, knocking it backwards in the process.

Jake stood before her, arms crossed against his chest.

The door slammed behind Clarke and she found herself in an empty hallway, nails digging into her palm as she clenched her fists.

Bellamy wasn't home when she got back, she assumed that he'd gone to work and she flung herself onto their bed, face down. She screamed angrily into the covers, allowing herself a moment of chaos.

* * *

Bellamy had decided to go visit Octavia while Clarke was out. Entering the Blake flat after their practiced knock and he found his sister asleep on the couch. He waltzed over to the couch and lifted her legs gingerly, sitting the space at the end of the couch and setting her legs back down. She shifted grumpily. "Bell?"

"Hey, O."

She stretched out with a yawn. "What's up big brother?"

"Nothing, just thought I'd come see you. I brought you something." He handed her a small package.

Octavia perked up and grabbed it from him, ripping through the brown wrapping. She lifted a small pendant necklace from the box and held it up between them.

"Oh my god, Bell, it's beautiful," she gasped.

Bellamy shrugged. "It's old and used, but I had a few extra points saved up. It's not every day your baby sister turns seventeen!"

Octavia scrambled over and pulled him into a hug. "Thanks, big brother," she whispered.

"Happy birthday, O," he replied.

Octavia hurried to secure it around her neck, flipping her hair out from under the chain.

"So, what's new with you?" Octavia quirked, nestling back into the couch.

Bellamy looked down, blushing.

"Oh my god," Octavia gaped. "You totally got laid."

"Octavia!"

"What! I'm seventeen, Bell, I know what sex is!"

Bellamy laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment behind his hands.

"Was it good?"

"I'm not talking about my sex life with you, O," Bellamy blanched.

Octavia frowned. "Whatever, you totally look fucked."

Bellamy punched her in the arm. "Ow! Jerk!" Octavia rubbed at the sore spot.

"Yeah, whatever, punk."

Octavia stuck her tongue out at him, and then they fell into a comfortable silence as they watched an old television program on their projection screen.

"I wish I could meet her," Octavia said quietly.

Bellamy looked at her, brow creased. He pursed his lips before returning his gaze to the televisions. "Yeah, I wish you could, too, O."

* * *

They were getting ready for bed and Clarke was a million miles away, folding and refolding her towel in front of the bathroom mirror. Bellamy was crossing the entrance of the bathroom when he stopped in his tracks, cocking his head at Clarke standing there in a trance.

"Clarke." 

"Huh?" Clarke shook her head, snapping to attention.

Bellamy shuffled back and wrapped himself around her shoulder, cradling her back against him as they looked into the mirror. Clarke brought her hand up to caress the arm enveloping her, before turning to lay her head back against his chest closing her eyes as she sighed.

"You okay?"

She nodded.

"You sure?"

Clarke opened her eyes and tilted her gaze upward. "No, not really."

Her turned her around, clasping his hands around her back and holding her in place.

She licked her lips and sighed, slumping against his embrace. "So, I talked to my dad." Bellamy nodded. "There's more to the story than I knew."

Bellamy frowned. "What's going on?"

"There's a fault in the oxygen system. Apparently there's only enough left for a few months and sending those kids to the ground gives them two more months to try and fix it, if it's even possible. But dad doesn't want to keep it from the people. He thinks that people will _volunteer_ for a culling if they knew it would help ensure the human race's survival."

Clarke dropped her forehead against his chest and Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead.

"Bellamy," she murmured into his chest. "They're going to float him if he tells people. The council doesn't want them to know." She was fighting back tears now. "I am sure he’s going to go through with it, Bellamy. I'm so scared."

"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be fine." He was lying, and he knew it. This would change everything, Clarke might lose her dad, _would_ lose her dad. He tried to push back the thoughts pressing on his mind: this didn’t just affect her, it affected them all: the kids, his mom, _Octavia_. He swallowed thickly as they remained in their embrace.

At that moment Clarke heard her com going off in the bedroom and her heart dropped. _No._

She ran to grab the device from her nightstand, 'Dr. Griffin' flashed across the screen and she pressed the button to accept the call.

 _"Clarke? Clarke, honey,”_ she said coolly, trying to hide the edge of apprehension.

"Mom?" she croaked.

 _"Clarke, the council made a decision."_ Abby didn’t need to say what had been decided, in her heart Clarke knew her dad was going to be floated.

"No!" she screamed. "You did this, mom! You could have stopped this!"

_"Clarke, I didn't have a choice."_

"You always had a choice!" she spat. She hung up the call, turning slowly on the spot. Bellamy stood a few feet away, knowing look on his face.

"Clarke." He reached out.

Clarke dissolved into tears and fell into Bellamy's arms as he wrapped them around her comfortingly.

The next day, Clarke had to watch as her father stood behind that glass compartment. He held a hand up to the glass as Clarke tried to remain stoic, hand shaking in Bellamy's hold. The guardsman on duty pressed the chamber release button and Clarke crumpled against her husband as she witnessed her father being sucked out into space.

* * *

A few days passed and Clarke was still on edge, and Bellamy didn't know what to do.

_"I wish I could meet her."_

Bellamy gritted his teeth. Making this decision would change everything, there was no going back.

"Hey, Clarke." Bellamy sat on the end of the coach where Clarke was curled up with her sketchbook.

She shifted, her voice a whisper. "Hey."

"I have something I want to show you."

Clarke frowned. "What is it?"

Bellamy's face contorted slightly. "It's, uh, a secret. But it's really important to me, okay?"

Nodding, Clarke pulled herself from her spot and brushed her hand over his. "Okay."

A few minutes later they were walking hand in hand down the walkway to Factory Station, and they reached what Clarke knew was his mother's apartment. He rapped lightly against the door and pushed it opened.

"Hey, Bell, I--" Octavia stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. "Bell..."

Clarke looked at the girl in front of her, and back to Bellamy. The eyes. The hair. The olive skin.

"Oh my god," Clarke choked. Bellamy ushered her in, closing the door quickly behind them.

"Clarke," Bellamy said apprehensively. "This is Octavia... my sister."

Clarke took a step back, bringing her hand to her mouth. "Your... sister," she repeated. "Oh my god, Bellamy."

" _Bellamy,_ " Octavia snapped again.

"Octavia." Bellamy reached out, Octavia stepped back tentatively. "This is important to me."

He turned to Clarke, cupping her face gently. "I know you've lost so much, I just wanted you to know you had more family. You have been unfalteringly honest and transparent with me, and I don't want anything else keeping me from being one-hundred percent honest with you."

Clarke's eyes kept darting past Bellamy and back to his gaze. _"Oh, Bellamy,"_ she breathed.

"Please," he pleaded.

Clarke swallowed, nodding and Bellamy moved to the side revealing Octavia who was standing awkwardly on the other side of the room.

Clarke took a few steps toward the girl, as if trying not to spook her.

"Hi, Octavia," she offered.

"Hi, Clarke." Octavia looked like she might cry.

Suddenly, Clarke reached out and wrapped Octavia into an embrace and the girl stood there unmoving. Clarke was warm and kind and finally Octavia was returning the hug. A quiet moment between sisters, and Bellamy stood back observing.

"Your secret is safe with me," Clarke whispered, and Octavia gave a firm squeeze.

They spent the afternoon in the apartment, only stopping their conversation briefly when Aurora returned and Bellamy had to reassure his mother that everything was okay. Octavia filled the conversations with embarrassing anecdotes about Bellamy and Clarke listened attentively as Bellamy resigned himself to the end of the couch, shaking his head.

"Bellamy, can I speak with you for a moment?" Aurora poked her head into the room and Bellamy left the two girls to their own devices.

"Behave, O," he said pointedly on his way out, that familiar Blake smirk plastered on her face.

Clarke smiled after him as he left the room and she turned back to see Octavia with a look of amusement.

"What?" Clarke frowned.

Octavia laughed, shaking her head. "Nothing, it's just the way he looks at you."

Clarke blushed. "There must have been other girls before me.”

Octavia shook her head. "I mean, not that I got to meet any of them, but he's different, Clarke. If I know one thing, it's that Bellamy would do anything for the people he loves, and he would do _anything_ for you. I can see it in the way he looks at you."

Clarke played with a loose thread on her sleeve, trying to hide her flustered face.

"What did I miss?" Bellamy popped back in, plopping back down beside Clarke and draping his arm across the back of the couch.

"Oh, nothing." She smiled, reaching a hand out to rest on his knee. "Octavia was just telling me about the time you were learning how to shave and you went to class with little tiny band-aids everywhere."

"Rude."

Clarke just laughed and gave his knee a little squeeze, and their eyes met for a quiet beat of time before Octavia launched into another story.

Later when they were walking back to their flat, Bellamy's thumb brushed against the small bump where a bruise had been and hadn't quite disappeared since her altercation with John Murphy.

"Oh, yeah," she said absentmindedly. "It doesn't hurt or anything, it's kind of weird."

Bellamy shrugged. "As long as you're okay." He pulled her wrist up and kissed the raised bit of skin as they approached their door. Once inside, Clarke was peeling off her sweater.

"Hey, Bellamy."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for telling me about Octavia." She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Bellamy closed the distance between them and brought a hand to her cheek. "I don't want there to be anything secret between us. You're my wife."

"I like that."

"Like what?"

Clarke smiled. "Being your wife."

Bellamy kissed her, their noses brushing together as they broke apart.

"I like it, too."

They ended up tangled in their sheets again that night, rolling away from each other with heavy breathing.

"Oh god," Clarke moaned.

"Please, just ‘Bellamy’ is fine," he joked.

"Shut up." She swatted at him.

"Whatever, you love it." He laughed and Clarke glanced over at him.

"Yeah," she agreed affectionately.

* * *

Three days after Clarke meets Octavia, Bellamy was wrapping up his shift doing Factory station rounds when he saw Commander Shumway and several higher ranking guards marching down the corridor. Something was wrong.

"Cadet Blake, I'm going to need you to hand over your badge," Shumway leered.

"What?” Bellamy asked confused. “What's going on?"

"Chief, can you please see that Mister Blake is stripped of his utilities and escorted back to the main guard station for questioning."

Bellamy was shaking now. "Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Commander Shumway had his chest puffed out and the smug bastard smiled at him. "I think you know what this is about, son. I mean, how long did you think you'd be able to hide her from us?"

 _Octavia._ "Don't you fucking touch her." Bellamy lunged forward, two guards grabbing his arms and pulling him back in restraint.

"Tsk, tsk," Shumway tittered. "I'll make sure she's _taken care of._ "

Bellamy struggled under the weight of the two officers as the Commander stalked off toward the Blake apartment. _"No!"_ he growled as they began to drag him away, protesting each step of the way.

Several hours later, they released Bellamy under the condition that he'd be stripped of his title and receive a heavy ration deduction. But they had Octavia, and he wasn't allowed to see her and Aurora had been locked up as well, her trial set for the next day. She'd surely be floated.

In a matter of a few moments, everything had come crashing down around him.

* * *

Clarke had moved into the second phase of her apprenticeship, still working with Jackson, but they had moved on to broken bones and similar injuries. She was wrapping up her shift when she stepped out into the corridor for a quick breather before paperwork and she saw a familiar shape walking away from the Medical Wing.

"Bellamy!" she called out but he didn't turn around. Clarke watched him ball his hands into fists and his shoulders tense up.

She caught up with him and reached out to touch his shoulder when he jerked away at the attempt.

"Bellamy?" she said again, her voice masked in confusion now.

He slowly turned and she saw that his eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying. He clenched his jaw when Clarke's face dropped, her small hands touching his face. "Oh my god, what happened?"

His nose flared as he scoffed and looked away trying to act detached. "Like you don't know?!"

She searched his eyes for some sort of hint, and she felt her heartbeat in her throat.

"Bellamy, I don't understand. What's going on?"

He grabbed her wrists and forced them down violently. "The fuck you don't understand! They're going to float my mom! Octavia got locked up! I might never see her again!" His voice was desperate and angry, barking at her with an intensity she hadn't seen since Murphy attacked her in the Skybox.

"N-no, no, Bellamy--"

"I trusted you Clarke." His voice broke. "I cared about you, I-I loved you!" His shoulders slumped, as if something inside of him had shattered.

Clarke was frozen, and she still didn't understand what was happening. She hadn't told anyone, how could they have found Octavia? There had to be some sort of explanation.

"Bellamy, please, I didn't--" She reached out again, cradling his face in her hand. He shook his head, taking a step away from her. Clarke was numb as he continued to walk backwards, hurt written all over his face until he turned and staggered away no longer able to look at her. She was left alone in the empty walkway clutching herself as she shook violently.

Bellamy didn't come home that night and Clarke didn't sleep much. It was too cold, too quiet. Too much, _too much._

Two days later, Clarke stood at the back of the room when Aurora was floated. She stared at the back of Bellamy's head, barely noticing that they had brought Octavia in to watch with a guard escort.

Home was cold, distant, and Bellamy made himself scarce. His side of the bed remained untouched and the sheets cold. Which wasn't too hard with his new job. Having lost his status as a member of the guard and assigned a Janitor position, he often worked opposite of Clarke's schedule. Clarke would emerge from the bedroom to find Bellamy sprawled out on the couch, still in his janitor’s uniform. Stirring at the noise of his wife entering the living space, he’d haul himself off and shuffle into the bedroom without so much as looking Clarke in the eye.

They both knew the launch window was approaching in a few days and the kids remaining in the Skybox would be sent to the ground. Clarke had managed to find Octavia's file: she was unviable, years of sharing rations and stunted hormonal levels made her chances of bearing a child nearly impossible. There was no way she'd get out of the Skybox before the drop happened. Clarke closed the file, feeling like she couldn't breathe. Bellamy couldn't lose Octavia, and she couldn't lose him, either. Not like this, not after everything.

Clarke was sitting at the table, waiting for Bellamy to return home. He clambered in a few hours after dinnertime and Clarke rose to her feet.

“Bellamy--”

“Not now, Clarke,” he groused.

" _Dammit,_ Bellamy, look at me!” Clarke snapped.

Bellamy stopped abruptly, his full attention on Clarke now.

Clarke held her chin high and looked him dead in the eyes. “Bellamy, I did not do this. Do you understand me? I would _never_ do that to you _or_ to Octavia. It is important to me that you understand this.”

Bellamy flared his nostrils, unfaltering.

Another moment passed and Clarke didn’t break their eye contact.

“I want to believe you, Clarke,” he said finally. He stopped and let out a sharp breath. “The only people I’ve ever been able to trust in my life and my mom, and O-- and _now they’re gone_. I don’t know what I‘m supposed to think, or do. I just know that nothing feels _right_ anymore. Not even you.”

“There has to be another explanation, Bell,” she whispered.

Bellamy swallowed thickly. “Yeah, well, when you figure that out, you know where to find me,” he chided. “I have to go mop floors now.”

Clarke watched him shuffle out of their apartment and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. There had to be another explanation, there had to be.

* * *

“Ah, Cadet Blake.” A sharp voice broke through the silence of the long since empty hallway of the sanitation quarter. Bellamy looked up from his mopping and saw Commander Shumway standing there. “Well, I suppose it’s _Janitor_ Blake now isn’t it?” Bellamy pursed his lips as the Commander continued to circle around him. “I know you've been searching for a way to save your sister.”

Bellamy’s nostrils flared in response. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“The window has change, the drop ship is going down in a few hours, and I can get you on it,” Shumway said conversationally.

The color drained from Bellamy’s face. “What?”

A smirk drifted across the officer’s face. “I can get you on the drop ship... if you do something for me.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Bellamy snarled, grip tightening on the handle of the mop.

Shumway grabbed a gun from the holster on his belt and held it out to Bellamy. “Kill Jaha.”

Bellamy stared at the gun for a moment, unsure about the man and proposition waiting before him. His eyes flicked back up to the Commander who raised an eyebrow, daring him to make the next move. Bellamy’s hand carefully wrapped around the base of the gun, assessing it as Shumway released his own grip. His eyes darkened and he pointed the gun at Shumway’s head.

Shumway laughed. “You pull that trigger, and you’ll _never_ see your sister again.”

Bellamy winced and the gun fell limply to his side.

“That’s what I thought,” the Commander sneered. “You shoot the Chancellor and I’ll get you on that ship.”

Then he was gone and Bellamy stood there helplessly staring at the weapon in his hand. He cried out in frustration, kicking over the bucket of dirty water at his feet. He didn’t have much time left to figure things out and with the launch window in less than two hours, he had to act fast.

* * *

Bellamy stormed back into the apartment, and began tearing through his things in a fit of fury, stuffing various items into a worn-out pack.

"Bellamy!" Clarke yelled, trying to get his attention.

He stopped abruptly, his breaths ragged and he was visibly shaking.

"What’s wrong? What’s happening?" she asked, desperately searching his face.

"Something's changed, the window has changed, they're sending the kids today."

Clarke's eyes widened. "What?!"

Bellamy shook his head with a clenched jaw and returned to the bag he was throwing things into. Clarke stepped toward him, reaching out. "What are you doing, Bellamy?"

"She's my responsibility, Clarke."

Clarke was shaking her head in disbelief, no, no, no. He was going to try and save Octavia.

"What are you going to do, Bellamy?" She barked. "Rescue her from the Skybox? Where are you going to go? Where are you going to hide?"

Bellamy stared at her as he swung the pack over his shoulder. _"She’s my responsibility,"_ he reiterated.

Something broke inside of Clarke, her whole body going rigid as Bellamy brushed past her and out of the apartment. Clarke stood glued to the floor, her body unmoving but her mind reeling. It felt like everything that was holding her together had snapped and she was falling apart. She didn't know what the hell was coming, and she didn't know if she could do it without Bellamy.

If she could do it _alone._


	2. bellamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Color was so saturated on Earth, nothing like the cold, muted tones of the Ark; a million shades of blues and greens, the stark contrast of purple and red flowers against the rough brown tree trunks. Bellamy’s head ached as he explored the area just outside the drop ship. He thought about the color of Clarke’s eyes. He’d never seen a blue quite like Clarke’s intense crystal irises, and falling into them had felt like swimming; calm and cooling. Bellamy thought the creek near the drop ship that was reflecting the perfectly clear sky was a strong likeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay. 
> 
> [PRE-FIRSTLY: RE-READ PART ONE BC I HAVE RETRO-EDITED TO UPDATE SOME OF MY WRITING STYLE/SILLY MISTAKES + MADE CLARKE CANONICALLY BISEXUAL BC I WROTE PART ONE BEFORE THAT REVELATION IN THE SHOW] 
> 
> First things first: I am completely and utterly overwhelmed and grateful for the positive response this fic got when I first posted it. It was my first attempt at a lot of different things (smut, ark, etc), and I don't think I would have been as confident as I am right now as a writer without your encouragement. 
> 
> Secondly: I am so sorry it's taken nearly six months to get this update ready for you. I hope you'll forgive me, and that it was worth the wait. After publishing part one, I hit a major writer's block-- my muse completely disappeared. I tried my hardest to find motivation and inspiration and it failed me. When I /did/ hit a bout of inspiration, I wrote everything really fast... and then it just sucked. It majorly sucked. I knew it sucked and I just wanted so badly to just post it and move on. However, this fic means so much to me and I just wanted it to be /right/. I wanted to post the best possible version of this story-- you guys deserved that. So, after 3 months of writer's block, a first draft, another 2 months of writer's block and a rewrite: here we are. (Not to mention between all of this I was traveling through Europe, moving back to America after nearly 2 years abroad, my Grandfather passing away and looking for employment... among various other things!)
> 
> Third: I just wanted to thank all of the people who helped me get where I am with this story. The girls at bffnet, for their constant encouragement (especially M + Courtney for proofreading this and various versions of this I don't know how many times); Crystal for letting me send her completely out of context sections of text and asking weird questions to help make things realistic and readable; and finally, the most important: my MVP and beta, Lauren; you stood by me, told me when things sucked, encouraged me to flesh out my characters and scenes to get the best possible story, helped me balance my ideas and execute dialogue and plot lines, you are invaluable and just so, so important to me. Thank you.
> 
> I have one more note (that I will share at the end) but for now, please enjoy part two.

_part two; bellamy_

Earth was a strange place. Bellamy looked around at the hundred teenage delinquents shouting and running through the lush oasis they had landed in. They had only been on the ground for two hours, and he had already witnessed a kid running naked through the nearby creek, another kid fall out of a tree, and a couple sneak off to do god knows what behind some boulders. So much for grieving the dead. Two hours on the ground, two kids buried in the ground.

Color was so saturated on Earth, nothing like the cold, muted tones of the Ark; a million shades of blues and greens, the stark contrast of purple and red flowers against the rough brown tree trunks. Bellamy’s head ached as he explored the area just outside the drop ship. He thought about the color of Clarke’s eyes. He’d never seen a blue quite like Clarke’s intense crystal irises, and falling into them had felt like swimming; calm and cooling. Bellamy thought the creek near the drop ship that was reflecting the perfectly clear sky was a strong likeness. 

Bellamy hunched over and dragged his fingertips along the surface of the tributary. The cold water bit at his soft skin and he withdrew his hand, wiping it on his pant leg as he rose back up. Octavia was twirling around a thin tree, a boy with floppy brown hair smiling as he tucked a purple flower behind her hair and Bellamy scowled. He stomped over to Octavia, grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

She jerked her arm back angrily. “What the hell, Bellamy?!”

“We have to go," Bellamy said sternly, his voice low.

“Go? Go where? We just got _here_." Octavia's brows knitted together in confusion.

Bellamy’s eyes flitted around, scoping out the area before grabbing her and dragging her a few feet farther away. “I did something to get on the drop ship, _something bad_. The Ark will make sure I’m floated, or whatever the Earth equivalent is, as soon as they get down here.”

Octavia shook her head. “What are you talking about Bell? They sent us down here to _die_. In return, we're pardoned of our crimes, and free to live on Earth... assuming we survive.”

Bellamy scoffed. “You really think they're just going to pardon everyone for their crimes? Just like that? That's not how they operate, Octavia!” He grabbed her wrist and held it up in between them. “This wristband communicates your vitals back to the Ark. The sooner they realize that Earth is survivable, the sooner they come down and when they do, O, I’ll be arrested. _I’ll_ be executed.”

“What did you do, Bell?” Octavia asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t have a choice, I did what I had to.” Bellamy tried to justify.

“What. Did. You. Do?” She asked again, this time each word punctuated with building ferocity.

Bellamy’s eyes dropped and his features darkened. “I shot Jaha.”

Octavia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Bellamy, oh my god. _You didn’t._ ” Octavia pleaded, but Bellamy just looked at her, shoulders heavy with the gravity of the situation.

Finally feeling the weight of it all his face twisted in a grimace as he brought the heels of his palms to his eyes. He applied pressure to the sockets before breathing out sharply and running his hands through his hair.

“I couldn’t let you die down here! _Alone!_ You’re the only family I have left!” His face contorted with a mix of emotions: anger, regret, sorrow.

Octavia crossed her arms against her chest. “What the hell do you mean the _only_ family? I seem to recall you having someone important up there on the Ark. Your wife?  And, what? You just _left_ her?”

 _“For fucks sake, Octavia."_ He cursed loudly enough to draw the eyes of a couple random kids. "How the hell do you think the Council found out about you?” Bellamy asked, his voice harsh and low. “She was the _only person_ who knew about you outside of me and Mom!”

Octavia was boiling. “And you actually think she’s the one who ratted me out?” she said heatedly. “Clarke _loves_ you, Bellamy. That girl thinks you hung the fucking _moon and stars in the sky!”_

Bellamy huffed and kicked up some dirt, refusing to make eye contact with his sister.

“You don’t really think she did it, do you, Bell?” Octavia pleaded quietly.

Bellamy squirmed. “I don’t-- _fuck,_ I don’t know!”

The siblings stood at an impasse, until Bellamy spoke again. “I did this for _you,_ Octavia.”

“I didn’t ask for that! So don’t you _dare_ put this on me Bellamy Blake. And for your information, I am perfectly capable of taking care of _myself!”_ Octavia clenched her jaw as Bellamy glared at her. “I’m not going anywhere, Bellamy. So, do whatever the hell you want, but do it without me.”

* * *

Bellamy found her later socializing with a group of male delinquents, much to his displeasure. The scrawny kid with goggles seemed innocent enough. He had asked around and word among the campers was that he was locked up for illegal herb distribution, which was _really_ just code for pothead.

He must have had a fairly intense look on his face because someone coughed. “If you stare any harder you might actually bore a hole into her head.”

Bellamy turned his head slightly to see that a gruff looking boy in a beanie had appeared at his side.

“Nathan Miller, but call me Miller.”

“Bellamy,” he replied, training his eyes back on his sister, now talking to a pale boy with dark hair.

“He’s not a murderer.”

Bellamy gave Miller an unamused look.

“The kid.” He pointed at Octavia and the boy. “Atom.”

Brushing him off, he licked his lips and clenched his jaw.

“You came down here for her, didn’t you?” Miller questioned. He took Bellamy’s grunt as an affirmation. “She seems pretty capable of taking care of herself.” Miller jutted his chin towards Octavia, who was laughing at something Atom had just said and Bellamy exhaled sharply.

“Yeah, so I’m told.”

Miller frowned. “I don’t know, man. It’s not so bad down here.”

Bellamy looked at the boy skeptically. “They sent you down here to die.”

“Tomorrow’s my eighteenth birthday.” Miller shrugged. “I’d have been floated either way.”

* * *

“... we should go now, if we want to make it there before dark,” one of the delinquents said with finality.

“I’m in!” Octavia volunteered.

Bellamy had been standing just a few meters away listening to the group talk about leaving for Mount Weather. His feet were moving before his brain caught up and Bellamy grabbed Octavia’s arm. “Like hell you are!”

“Not this again.” Octavia sighed with exasperation. Ripping her arm from her brother’s grip for the second time that day she rounded on him. “I’m not a little kid, anymore, Bell! I’ve been locked up one way or another my _entire_ life. I need some space! Some adventure!”

Bellamy’s nose flared with anger. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Is everything okay?” The floppy haired delinquent stepped in closer, ready to diffuse the situation.

Bellamy growled at him in response. Octavia braced an arm between Bellamy and the boy. “Everything’s fine, Finn. I’ll be ready to go in five minutes.”

She looked back at her brother. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, Bell, but I’m a big girl. I’ve got this.” Octavia turned on her heels and rejoined the group getting ready to leave.

Balling his hands into tight fists, he barked an order over his shoulder. “Miller!”

Miller appeared at his side. “Go with them, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.” Bellamy sighed. He watched Octavia venture out into the unknown with the company of four teenage delinquents.

* * *

Bellamy didn’t sleep much that night, his stomach twisting into knots thinking about Octavia out in the woods with those criminals. _Those criminals? You’re a criminal._ Images of the two boys that died on impact seared into the back of his eyelids making it impossible to keep them closed for any length of time.

Miller had grabbed Roma before leaving camp, adding a second girl to balance out Finn and Jasper. They swore they would return before dark the next evening, but Bellamy knew there was no certainty behind those promises.

The camp was glowing, shadows dancing against the drop ship from the flickering flames of the fire. Bellamy felt his stomach grumble, but he’d given the last of his fruit to one of the smaller girls who was so thin she might have toppled over in the breeze.

The longer he stayed here, the harder it would be for him to leave. Bellamy knew that and it made him anxious. He stared out at the camp from his position at the base of a tree, and his eyes traveled to the section just behind the drop ship where two freshly dug graves lay as a painful reminder of the Council’s decision: labeling these _children_ as criminals and declaring them as expendable in the grand scheme of the human race.

_Fuck the Ark._

Bellamy watched as two girls strolled by, glancing at him with a shared giggle before running off into a dark corner. The fire reflected off the metal of their wristbands and Bellamy got an idea.

* * *

 _“Aaagh!”_ The delinquent groaned through gritted teeth as Bellamy pried the communication device from his wrist. It detached with a _hiss_ and Bellamy smiled proudly.

_Make the Ark think they’re dying, and they’ll think it’s not safe to come down._

Bellamy clapped the boy, John, on the shoulder and congratulated him for sticking it to the Ark. “Mbege did it, now who’s next?” He turned back to the crowd of delinquents gathering around the fire.

Clarke had always said he’d make a good leader, that he had a rare charisma that made people want to follow him.

_“I’m just a cadet, Clarke.”_

_“But one day, you could be more.” She smiled, brushing his too-long hair from his eyes. “I believe in you Bellamy Blake.”_

_She kissed him soft and slow, and Bellamy never wanted to go back to the way things were before._

Bellamy swallowed thickly as the memories of Clarke came in flashes. He was brought out of his trance when another kid jumped up to volunteer his wristband. “‘Atta boy.” Bellamy smirked.

* * *

Everything came to a head when Miller and Finn stumbled back into camp carrying an unconscious Jasper. Bellamy immediately went to Octavia, who trailed behind them covered in blood.

“It’s not mine.” Her breathing was labored as Bellamy searched her for injury. He cupped her face, and Octavia grabbed at his wrists, pushing them away. “I’m _fine_.”

“What the hell happened?” Bellamy barked at the two boys who had set Jasper down.

“Something attacked us-- _someone_ attacked us,” Finn answered. “I don’t think we’re the only ones on the ground.”

Miller nodded affirmatively to Bellamy and he gritted his teeth.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Bellamy snarled.

Octavia grew angry, “Something-- _anything,_ we can’t let him die!”

_If Clarke were here, she’d know what to do._

“I’m not a doctor, O! I can’t help him, I just--” Bellamy dragged his hand over his face in exasperation.

Octavia’s eyes were wet and she blinked back angry tears, turning toward Finn and Roma who had brought up the rear of the group. “Let’s, um-- let’s get him onto the drop ship for now and clean the wound.”

“O--”

“It’s fine, Bellamy, we’ll figure something out.” Just like that, Octavia walked away without so much as a second-glance.

* * *

Bellamy paced around camp nervously. Octavia had disappeared into the makeshift tent they had finally set-up for Jasper and the rest of the camp was on edge with the uncertainty that came with this gruesome turn of events. The prospect of ‘Grounders’ scared the shit out of him, to be completely honest. He watched the tarp draw back and Octavia stepped out into camp.

“Octavia--”

Octavia brushed past him and Bellamy groaned, turning to follow her.

“Octavia, talk to me! What the hell happened out there?”

Halting in her tracks, Bellamy saw her tense up, clenching her fists at her side. She spun around and flared her nose in anger. “I don’t-- _I don’t know!”_

A palpable tension settled between them and Octavia sucked in a deep breath. “There was a spear, and Roma swore she saw someone in the woods.” She threw her arms up. Sighing, she shook her head. “Jasper said something before he passed out. He said we should try and reverse engineer the wristbands. It might be possible to make contact with the Ark that way, and get help.” Octavia searched his eyes, pleading with him. “Bellamy, I _know_ you don’t want them to come down-- but we are not going to survive down here without them. We’re not doctors, we can’t just traipse around down here like nothing can touch us!”

Bellamy knew she was right.

“Those people locked me up for _being born,_ ” Octavia continued. “I don’t want them down here any more than you-- but I’m not the only person that matters. We’ve already lost two kids, _almost_ three. Down here, every life matters.”

The tension dissolved from his shoulders and he sighed, rubbing his face roughly. “Yeah, about those wristbands.”

“God, you’re a fucking idiot sometimes, Bell.” Octavia shook her head.

* * *

Nearly half the camp had already removed their wristbands thanks to Bellamy, and they had to hunt down a few more volunteers to assist in reverse engineering them to contact the Ark.

Luckily Jasper had given them the name of someone who could help: _Brenna_. She had been locked up for hacking into Central Control on the Sanitation Level. _“Something about hot water and longer showers for Agro workers.”_ Octavia informed him.

Bellamy hovered at the workstation Brenna had prepared when she froze suddenly and looked up at him. “You have to stop.”

“What?”

“You are hovering, Bellamy. I’m not going to get shit done if you stand there watching me. This could take me weeks, for all I know, and I don’t like you enough to spend that much time with you.”

His jaw dropped slightly and his cheeks prickled with embarrassment. Clearing his throat he stammered. “Right-- I’ll just… go then.” Bellamy spun on his heels and went to check on the crew working on the wall.

* * *

Jasper had gotten progressively worse over the days following the attack and Octavia stayed by his side cleaning and redressing the wound.

“We need a doctor, it’s a miracle he’s survived this long!” Octavia snapped when Bellamy came in and asked how he was doing.

“I’m fucking aware, O!”

Octavia glared at him. “Then don’t fucking ask me how he’s doing and get out of my face.”

Clenching his jaw, Bellamy backed out of the tent without another word. He turned to face the courtyard of the camp, observing the delinquents at work. Still tucked away in his pack on the drop ship was the gun he’d used to shoot the Chancellor, but one gun was not going to be enough to protect them if they were attacked again.

Bellamy grew restless and frustrated as the days dragged on, unable to fully admit that he needed Brenna to succeed and that he _missed_ Clarke. Something needed to change: yesterday a twelve-year old flung herself off a cliff, plagued with nightmares of her parents being sucked into space; delinquents were disappearing into the woods despite orders to stay in camp, and Jasper laid, barely alive, on a metal table.

How many more had to die under his watch?

* * *

With the lingering threats of another attack by the unknown Grounder enemy, the consensus was that the camp needed fortifying. Mbege took point on the construction of the wall, and most of the camp was assigned to a different task: dragging logs and large branches, detaching metal sheets from the dropship. It was coming along nicely, nearly two-thirds of the shell was completed and a watch tower was being positioned on either side of what appeared to be the main entrance to camp.

Those that weren’t working on the wall were collecting nuts and berries under the supervision of Finn Collins. Walking through camp, Bellamy noticed Finn standing at the ration station surrounded by several of the female delinquents. His body language was suggestive and flirty and Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Bellamy wanted to see if they could hunt down some sort of animal to feed the camp and Finn advised him against it.

“What do you think radiation-soaked meat will do to our digestive systems, Bellamy? We have no idea how aggressive these animals are!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose had become quite a common occurrence when it came to Finn Collins.

“Well, we need to supplement our diet _somehow_ , Collins,” he snarled. “If you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”

“The map is marked with a Supply Bunker maybe a three or four hour hike from here. It’s worth a look.”

He resisted the nose pinching and reluctantly agreed that it was probably best. Bellamy couldn’t spare Mbege or Miller on the wall, so he gritted his teeth and left camp with Finn half an hour later. The forest was moist and cool and Bellamy felt the dampness all the way to his toes. The trek took longer than they expected, and Bellamy deflated when they reached the point marked on the map only to find a desolate swamp-like field.

“It must be around here somewhere.” Finn searched around, kicking at the ground with his boot. A rock broke loose, hitting something metal with a soft _thunk_. “Over here!”

Bellamy trudged up the hill to see Finn squatting down, brushing away debris from a rusty door. It opened with some force, Finn stumbling backward. Bellamy braced himself and kept them from rolling down the hill. Finn cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Lowering themselves down, their feet touched down against the concrete floor. Like the ground above, the whole bunker was damp and dark. Several lamps sat beside the entrance and they each took one, splitting up to search through the supplies. Bellamy wandered deep into the bunker, opening canisters, only to find moldy blankets and other useless junk.

“There’s nothing back here.” Bellamy’s voice echoed in the small space, heading back to the main area. “This was a stupid idea.” The latter he mumbled mostly to himself.

Finn said something in response, but Bellamy couldn’t quite hear. “...finding anything either-- wait!”

He got closer and saw Finn hunched over several large barrels examining the labels.

“Let me see.” Bellamy nearly shoved him out of the way to get to them. It took both of them to remove the lids. “Holy shit,” he breathed when Finn held the light over the deep containers. “Guns.”

It almost felt like what Bellamy thought Christmas should feel like. He was _giddy_ and he found himself _really_ smiling for the first time since landing on Earth. His happiness drowned out the annoyance he felt about Finn’s trip panning out.

“We have enough to arm those on the wall and--”

Finn cut him off. “What? No! You can just go back into a camp of teenagers, waving munitions around like toys! Not everyone in that camp needs to have a gun in their hands.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Then what do you suggest?”

Finn shrugged. “You were in the guard. You’re the only one down here that knows how to use a gun _properly_. Teach the older ones-- the ones you trust.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit that Finn was right… he was.

They stayed the night in the bunker, leaving at first light for camp. They hid the guns a few clicks from camp so they could return once they’d made plans for the delinquents. Finn matched his stride and spoke finally, after several hours of silence. “You can keep acting like you don’t care about these kids, but what good is that really going to do in the end, Bellamy?”

Camp came into view and Finn lengthened his stride, leaving Bellamy alone with his thoughts.

He paused at a small creek. Camp was in his line of vision but he wasn’t quite ready to return. Finn had implied that he didn’t care about these kids, but then what the hell was he doing? There were three graves outside the wall that left a hollow ache in his chest. There was a little girl with a long blonde braid and delicate ivory skin back at camp that made his heart sink. His muscles were sore and his hands bruised and battered from building a wall around that damn camp. If he didn’t care about those kids, why did he sit awake in the middle of night listening for unknown dangers that lay outside the walls?

_You can pretend._

He didn’t sleep that night either.

* * *

Over the next few days, Bellamy and Miller worked on deciding which of the delinquents would be allowed to handle a gun, in addition to the two of them and Finn, despite Finn’s protestations. For now, Sterling, Atom, Mbege, and Roma would all have complete access to the artillery, and Bellamy wanted to start their training immediately.

“You know how to shoot?” Bellamy jerked his head at Sterling, who stood at the end of the group line up in front of him.

“I saw an instructional film once,” Sterling answered dubiously.

Bellamy winced, trying to mask his frustration. Sometimes he forgot they were only teenagers and it was times like this he felt his age weighing on him. He worked with the group, teaching them the basic components of the weapon, how to load and unload a clip, how to put the damn safety on. Eventually he got around to showing them how to hit a target and he sort of began to feel like the captain Clarke always said he could be

Octavia interrupted the instruction session, fiery and hot-headed and informed Bellamy that she, too, would be joining the lesson.

“No.” Bellamy didn’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely not.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You keep talking about wanting to keep me safe! How can I protect myself let me learn how, Bellamy? Besides, it’s either you show me right now with you here, or I get one of them to teach me. In private.”

Octavia had gotten in his face before, but there was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore. Determination flooded her veins and Bellamy knew there was no fighting her on this, either. _I’m a damned fool for trying to control this woman._

He sighed heavily and Octavia bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. I am absolutely going to regret this.

Atom caught on surprisingly quick. Bellamy was wary about the kid, mostly because he seemed very drawn to Octavia. But, he hit the target before any of the other delinquents did and showed promising signs of being a fair marksman. He walked down the line, observing the team; adjusting an elbow here, passing out a word of praise there. Careful not to encourage Octavia too much, he watched her stoically and gave her a sharp nod when she made the shot.

Once they had all hit the target once, he stopped them, wanting to preserve ammunition. A small room inside the dropship had a working control panel that Brenna managed to rewire to a new code, allowing them to lock the door from the outside easily. Miller assisted him in locking away the excess bullets and unused guns after the group dispersed to their other duties.

“I knew you weren’t a _total_ dick.”

Bellamy stopped and stared at his “lieutenant” of sorts. Miller’s face was passive, and a beat passed before he broke out into a small smile and Bellamy shook his head. “Fuck you.”

* * *

Three days after they finished training, he and Mbege took off on a supply run. They grabbed their rations for the day and Bellamy popped a few of the nuts into his mouth as they left the gate.

Bellamy hadn’t noticed that one of the guns had been missing when he’d picked up his own.

The second bunker was a near bust. It was smaller and the door had been detached, leaving all the contents bare to the throws of the wild. It was almost dark. Upon deciding it would be smart to head back soon, Bellamy began to feel funny, dizziness hitting him as steadied himself against a shelving unit. He began to sweat and told Mbege he needed to get some air, leaving him to finish packing up what few items they had decided to take back to camp.

His vision became cloudy as he stumbled out into the clearing. Bracing his hands on his knees, he hunched over, head spinning. An overwhelming rush of emotion overtook him. Every doubt, every fear was heightened as a bloody Jaha appeared before Bellamy.

_“Bellamy Blake. You must answer for your crimes.”_

“I did what I had to do.” Bellamy heard himself say.

A cruel laugh spilled from Jaha’s lips. “What you had to do? You think that absolves you? You’re a _murderer!”_ The Chancellor moved towards him, blood staining his shirt from the gun wound Bellamy had caused. “You used your _sister_ to justify _your_ selfishness. _Your_ cruelty. _You_ ran away. From _your_ problems. From _her_.

Her name wasn’t spoken, but he knew. Bellamy sucked in a shaky breath. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

A cruel laugh spilled from Jaha’s lips, as he lunged forward. “Death is easy!”

Bellamy stumbled backwards, barely staying on his feet as he froze on the spot.

“Are you taking care of your sister?” Aurora Blake stood before him, worry lines around her eyes.

“Mom?”

A bright light flashed and the mother he knew was replaced by a frosty, skeletal manifestation. “ _Your_ sister, _your_ responsibility.” Her voice was metallic and garbled.

Backing away his foot caught on a root and he twisted sideways. Everything was spinning. Bellamy looked up and saw Clarke standing a few feet away. His stomach lurched. “Clarke,” he croaked. Her cheeks were pink and warm and she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

“What did I do?” Her voice was raw. “Why did you leave me?”

Reaching for her, he tried to get back on his feet.

“Bellamy.” Jaha appeared over him.

Jaha was gone and Aurora was there. “Bellamy.”

He covered his ears with his hands.

“Bellamy.” Clarke’s voice haunted him.

The Chancellor was in front of him again and he kneeled before him. Reaching behind him, Bellamy pulled the handgun from the waistband of his pants and held it out with shaking hands.

“Please. I deserve it.”

Jaha leered over him then backhanded him, a loud crack against his jaw. Bellamy crawled on his hands and knees, the Chancellor following with a blow to the ribs that sent him rolling onto the ground. “Get up! Fight!”

His face stung, a bruise on his cheekbone forming rapidly. “What am I supposed to do?!” He cried, voice rising with each word. Jaha swiped at his arm, sending his face back into the mud. Bellamy struggled to pull himself back up, only to receive a blow to the face that sent him reeling backwards.

“Fight back!” Jaha cried, his fist connecting with the side of Bellamy’s head. Bellamy crouched low chin tucked against his chest when he was jerked upward by his hair. “You think you deserve to be free of this pain? You think you’ve _earned_ that?” Jaha’s voice warped and his ears were ringing. A final punch knocked Bellamy on his back, the noise in his head building and building until it was quiet and he heard the cocking of a gun.

His eyes flew open and Jaha was nowhere in sight. Instead, Dax stood above him with a rifle aimed at his head. Bellamy didn’t have a chance to react before he spoke.

“Nothing personal.” Pulling the trigger, the gun clicked. _Blank._

Bellamy reached for the handgun beside him, coming up instead with an empty hand. The confusion gave Bellamy a second to clamber to his feet and tackle Dax to the ground, sending his gun flying and scattering the bullets in the soil. He felt Dax’s knee connect with his chest as they rolled on the ground. Bellamy groaned, struggling to gain purchase against the large boy.

Dax scrambled on top of him, strong hands closing in around his throat.

Bellamy tried to speak. “Why-- do this?”

“Something has to _change_ ,” he sneered.

His lungs screamed for air, the pressure near impossible to stand. Bellamy’s arms flailed and he twisted beneath the hold of the delinquents. Something metallic flashed against the moonlight in his peripherals and he dropped his hand into the soil, feeling around. Bellamy’s fingers closed around a bullet and with the last bit of energy he had he swung the full force of his arm into the boys neck. Dax fell limp, blood gushing from the wound and Bellamy struggled to roll him off.

A few moments passed as he tried to gather his bearings. What the fuck just happened? The bubble burst over his mind and he came to.

“Mbege?” He called out, eyes searching the dark forrest around him. “John!”

Bellamy’s feet carried him towards the entrance of the bunker where John lay, bleeding from his abdomen. With shaking hands, he checked for a pulse but found none.

_Fuck._

Blood pounded in his ears and covered his hands as he carried the boy back to camp. Add John Mbege to the growing list of casualties now on his hands. He barely heard the shouting of anger and confusion when he crossed back through the gate. Several kids were without clothes and had dazed looks on their faces. Bellamy thought about the body that remained outside these walls. The body of the boy that had attempted to kill him.

_What had to change?_

Bellamy swallowed thickly, his throat raw and he pushed his way to the med tent, depositing the body on the spare table. Octavia scrambled to her feet when he came in, covered in blood and bruises, she brought her hands to cup his face gingerly.

“I’m fine, O.”

“Like hell you are,” she seethed.

Bellamy grabbed her wrists and dragged them down. “Can we just-- can we deal with me later?” His eyes pleaded with her. “We’ll need to bury him.” He jerked his head towards Mbege.

She nodded tentatively, searching his face. Bellamy drew his eyes elsewhere. “Thanks,” he said brusquely. A minute later he was heading for his tent, passing a boy cradling a stick to his chest. Bellamy stopped just short of the tent and vomited.

He didn’t sleep that night, either.

* * *

The camp remained on edge following the attack. They had spent the past two weeks feeling scared that someone outside the walls was going to attack. They didn’t realize the danger that remained _within_. There was talk that Dax was involved with the Coalition. Rumors flew as to the reason he was locked up the first place.

_“I heard he attacked a guard.”_

_“I heard he poisoned his mother.”_

_“Well, have you seen his tattoo? He was involved with something!”_

Bellamy withdrew into himself, snapping at everyone. Atom approached him hesitantly.

“Sterling and I were talking about going hunting.”

Whipping his head back towards the teenager, he flared his nose. “Oh, you were talking about going hunting?”

“Our food supply is really low, Bellamy.” The kid straightened up further, puffing out his chest. Bellamy leered over him, but Atom stood his ground.

Bellamy growled. “Fine, but I’m going with you.”

* * *

The horn blew ten minutes outside of camp. Sterling looked around. “Where’s Atom?”

Bellamy’s pulse quickened. He saw a orange fog drifting through the wooded expanse. “What the hell is that?” Sterling’s eyes got big, and he started running. “Let’s go!”

Atom still wasn’t back, but Bellamy took off after Sterling anyways. They found a hollow carved into a tree and shoved their way inside. A scream sounded and the two shared a look. A moment later the fog seemed to have lifted and they stumbled out of the tree. Racing back towards to source of the scream, they found Atom convulsing on the ground, covered in boils, his skin blistered and burned over all over his.

His breathing was labored and pained. Bellamy couldn’t take the way the knife slid into Atom’s throat, quickly and painlessly putting him out of his misery. His chest tightened, recalling the evening that Clarke had been practicing making incisions on a hunk of cheese at the kitchen table. Curious, he’d asked her to demonstrate the technique for him, not thinking he would ever need to use that skill.

Sterling carried Atom back to camp and Bellamy dragged the lifeless two-headed deer they’d happened upon outside the walls.

Sure they’d managed to bring back dinner for the camp, but at what cost. The more they learned about Earth, the less they knew. An acid fog was definitely not something they had accounted for.

Three weeks and counting. Eleven bodies.

* * *

Bellamy went over it in his head. The two kids from the drop ship, Dax and Mbege, Charlotte, Atom, the five missing kids. Eleven kids _dead_ or missing, and one barely clinging to life. He sat by the fire watching the deer on the spit; kids loitered around the courtyard laughing and talking amongst themselves. They didn’t have to bear this weight.

He searched for Octavia and found her with a small group playing drinking games with a bottle of moonshine. Someone made a toast to Atom. Gritting his teeth, he decided against going over there and saying something; he knew better.

Bellamy broke the remains of the twig in between his fingers. Three weeks. Three weeks they'd been on Earth and they still hadn't been able to contact the Ark. He wondered about the attack at Mount Weather. If it was isolated, then who were these people?

_Fuck the ground._

* * *

Growing weary of Jasper's moans echoing through the camp, he pushed off his knees and stalked towards Brenna with a heavy steps. She saw him coming and rolled her eyes as he approached the work station. “Nothing yet,” she mumbled, metal tool between her teeth.

“Oh.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Brenna looked at him, her bright green eyes tired. She withdrew the tool from her mouth and sighed. “Look, I _think_ I’m close. I don’t really know. The auxiliary lines are running and I’m accessing the short range stations, but there’s obviously nothing out there--”

_"Hello?"_

Bellamy's eyes grew wide and Brenna dropped the tool in her hand, sending it clattering into the array of wiring and burnt out wristbands on the desk. She picked up the makeshift radio and called back, "Hello? This is Brenna from the delinquent drop ship. Come in."

Static.

She flared her nose. "This is Brenna from the drop ship, come in. Over."

_"Brenna? Brenna Valerie?"_

Brenna's pulse quickened. "Yes, this is her. Who is this?"

_"This is Monty Green, I'm with Raven Reyes and Clarke Griffin--"_

Bellamy pushed forward and grabbed the radio from Brenna. "Clarke?"

There was a pause. _"Bellamy?"_

Relief overwhelmed Bellamy, Clarke's voice warming the coldest parts of him.

"Clarke." He breathed again.

_"Oh my god, Bellamy, you're okay. I didn't-- I thought--"_

"I'm okay." He felt a lump form in his throat. "I'm okay, Octavia's okay."

_"Talk to us, tell us what's happening down there."_

Bellamy caught Brenna's gaze out of the corner of his eye, and she nodded sharply. "We’ve suffered some losses.”

_“How many?”_

“Eleven.” His throat burned at the number.

_“Jesus, Bellamy.”_

Clenching his jaw, he continued. “We aren't alone down here."

_"What do you mean?"_

"We went in search of Mount Weather and one of the kids was speared as soon as he crossed the river that surrounded it. He's, uh, he's not doing well."

 _"Is he going to make it?"_   Clarke asked.

Bellamy closed his eyes. "I don't, uh, I don't think so, Clarke. It's bad. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long."

Silence returned and Raven came over the speaker. _"Bellamy, the council is planning on launching the Exodus ship. There will be a medical unit on board. Keep the kid alive until then, can you do that?"_

Bellamy breathed out sharply. "How long until they launch?"

_"Disengagement is set for tomorrow afternoon, we’ll know more soon."_

"Okay, we'll try to hold on until then, Raven." Bellamy noticed Brenna gesturing at him. "Brenna needs to speak to Monty."

 _"Bellamy?"_ Clarke's voice crackled over the radio.

"I have to go, Clarke." His heart ached at the sound of her voice. "Stay safe."

_"You too, and Bellamy? Who's the kid?"_

"Uh, his name is Jordan. Jasper Jordan."

There was a weighted pause and Monty returned. _"Jasper? You're sure?"_

"Yeah, I'm sure."

_"Give Brenna the radio."_

Bellamy frowned and delivered the radio to Brenna's outstretched hand before retreating to camp. Clarke's voice echoing in his head. Bellamy?

* * *

He drew back the flap to the tent where Jasper laid on a flattened scrap of metal, draped in blankets and Octavia was attending to him and she scurried about with water and cloths. Bellamy remained near the entrance with his arms crossed against his chest and Octavia's eyes flitted up and then back to Jasper. "He's getting worse."

Bellamy's eyes dropped. "We made contact with the Ark."

Octavia's hands paused on the bandage she was working on and turned her head slowly towards her brother.

"Well, we contacted a remote channel. Clarke was there."

Octavia raised her eyebrows. "Clarke was on the radio? Did she say anything about Jaha?"

Bellamy ignored the question. "They're going to launch the Exodus ship tomorrow afternoon. A med team will be on board."

"I don't know if he's going to make it through the night, Bellamy," Octavia admitted sadly, her hand covering Jasper’s against the makeshift bed.

Bellamy nodded. "We try. We try to _make_ him make it through the night, O."

With a clenched jaw, she returned her attention to Jasper and Bellamy suddenly felt suffocated.

He'd spent his entire life in a small room with cold metal walls, but now the idea of staying in this room was creating a vice around his chest, growing tighter and tighter, constricting his breath. Bellamy burst out of the tent, trying to catch his breath as the damp air assaulted him his nostrils. He was halfway across the camp when he heard someone calling his name.

"Bellamy! Hang on!"

Turning around, he saw Brenna jogging towards him. "Brenna, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Her breathing was slightly labored. "Clarke is still on the radio, she wants to talk to you."

Bellamy felt his heart flip in his chest and he followed Brenna back to her work station. She handed him the radio and left him alone with the static. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Clarke?"

 _"Bellamy."_   She exhaled audibly.

He wasn't sure what to say, everything was so messed up now. What could he say?

"Are you okay?"

_"I'm okay. I've talked to my mother about getting on the med unit assigned to the Exodus ship. She agreed that it's probably a good idea."_

Bellamy felt a rush of emotion. "Yeah, okay. That's good."

 _"I'm so sorry, Bellamy."_ He could hear the tremor in her voice. _"It never should have come to this. I want you to know that you and Octavia are my family, and I would never want anything bad to happen to either of you."_

"They know it was me, don't they? That I killed Jaha." He scoffed.

_"Bellamy, Jaha isn't dead."_

Bellamy felt his lungs deflate. "What?"

_"The gunshot wasn't fatal. He lost a lot of blood, and Dr. Gri-, my mother broke the law and gave him a blood transfusion that saved his life. Kane tried to have her floated but Jaha, uh, checked himself out of the intensive care wing and pardoned her."_

Bellamy stood there speechless for a moment, the radio static echoing loudly in his head. "He's not dead."

_"Bellamy, you didn't kill Thelonious."_

Bellamy repeated her statement, "I didn't kill Jaha."

_"No."_

"But, I still shot him."

_"Let me worry about that, Bellamy. You did what you had to do. I still have time, I'll make them see that. You worry about keeping those kids alive, okay?"_

Bellamy thought about those kids. Those kids he couldn’t keep alive.

"It was Shumway, Shumway gave me the gun."

_"Shumway? The Commander?"_

"He told me if I wanted to get on the drop ship, if I wanted to see Octavia again, that I had to shoot Jaha."

_"I will alert the Council immediately. He has to be working with the Coalition... there's more to this than we know."_

Bellamy cleared his throat, swallowing back the bubble of pain resurfacing. "The kid that stabbed Wells is down here, we've got him locked away in the ship. So far, he hasn't said a word to us."

_"You're sure it's him?"_

"Yeah, Miller confirmed it. We'll find out what he knows though, about the Coalition... about Wells. We have to."

_"Thank you, Bellamy."_

"I'll see you tomorrow, then, I guess," Bellamy said quietly.

 _"Tomorrow,"_ she confirmed.

* * *

Bellamy laid on his pallet later, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow the Exodus ship would come down, and Clarke would be on Earth with him. His muscles twitched with nervous anticipation, his mind racing with all the events of the last several months. Marrying Clarke, Wells' murder, Jake getting floated, his Mother getting floated, Octavia getting locked up, shooting Jaha, leaving Clarke, coming to Earth, and somewhere along the way-- falling _in love_ with Clarke.

And yet, still an uneasy feeling settled over him. _The Coalition._ Bellamy flopped onto his stomach and wriggled around on the tattered blankets. After another short moment passed, he sighed heavily and pushed himself up and off the bed and stomped out into the courtyard.

“Miller!” He snapped at the guard on watch.

Miller replied with a small jerk of his head.

“Take me to the prisoner.”

* * *

Bellamy, Miller, and Sterling crowded into a small room in the back of the drop ship. The kid, Mick, sat in the corner, hands bound and a sour expression etched on his face. He glared at the older guys, lips pressed into a thin line. Mick had dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept much recently.

"So the famous Bellamy Blake finally graces me with his presence," the kid sneered.

Bellamy frowned and dropped to sit on a box in front of the boy, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs.

"Mick, is it?" He asked, and the kid just flared in nose in response. "You killed the Chancellor’s son."

There was barely a flicker of acknowledgement in Mick's eyes as he continued the stare down with Bellamy.

"And you're working for the Coalition?"

_Blink._

"Yes, this is good. Please refuse to answer me," Bellamy said roughly. " _See_ what happens."

Mick licked his lips and cocked his head. "Yeah, I killed the Prince. What does it matter to you?"

It was Bellamy's turn to be a little shit. "That's privileged information." He added a snarky smile and tilt of his head.

The kid squirmed a little, then looked back at Bellamy smugly. "Oh right, I forgot. You're married to the _Princess_ and the Prince was family to her. Well, let's be honest, she always preferred him, didn't she?"

Bellamy's pulse quickened.

Mick noticed the rise he was getting out of Bellamy. "Yeah, everyone always thought they'd end up married. The Prince and Princess of the Ark, but instead, she got married to what? Some low-level cadet from _Factory Station?"_

"Shut up," Bellamy growled.

"I bet she has to think about him when she's fucking you," he leered. "Tell me." Mick leaned forward. "Did she ever say his name instead of yours?"

Bellamy snapped and lurched forward, fist making contact with Mick's face. Miller and Sterling moved quickly to grab Bellamy's arms and pull him back. Struggling under the grip of the two boys, Bellamy surrendered. "Okay. Okay!" He jerked his arms away and held them up to show he was fine.

Hovering over the boy, whose nose was now gushing with blood, Bellamy pointed at him. "You're going to talk to someone. It can be me, it can be one of these lovely gentlemen," he sneered. "Or you can see what else I'm willing to do to get that information. Got it?"

The kid laughed darkly. "I don't know why you care what they have planned. You're from _Factory_ , the Coalition is full of Factory members who want to see change; change, that we're willing to fight for."

"By killing innocent kids?" Bellamy scoffed.

"Someone has to make Jaha understand the loss that we, the outer stations, are facing on a daily basis!"

Frowning, Bellamy dropped back down in front of the boy. "And what exactly _is_ happening in the outer stations, Mick?"

"Lower ration allowances? Higher rates of oxygen deprivation illness and deaths? More kids from Factory not getting their pardons at their review?"

"But it's like that all over Ark Station."

Mick raised an eyebrow. "Really? Your wife works in medical. She ever tell you how many Factory kids died from malnutrition and oxygen deprivation last quarter?"

Bellamy stayed quiet.

"Twenty-three. Twenty-three _kids_ died because of the policies this administration has implemented and carried out," Mick barked. "And you know how many Alpha kids died? Two. Fucking two."

Bellamy swallowed thickly.

"Yeah." Mick relaxed back as he watched Bellamy processing the information. "You go ahead and tell me there isn't something wrong with this system."

Miller and Sterling looked to Bellamy.

"I'm done talking." Mick spat, turning his face to wipe away some of the blood on his shoulder.

Bellamy stood up and shoved past the two delinquents to the drop ship exit.

* * *

Bellamy had tried to go back to sleep after the encounter with Mick, to no avail. He found Miller at a guard post and took his spot beside him.

“Why the sudden interest in the kid?” Miller asked.

Glancing over at the beanie-clad delinquent, Bellamy sighed. “The Ark is sending down an Exodus ship. Tomorrow.”

“What the hell?” Miller growled. “Are you fucking serious?”

Bellamy glanced at him, unamused. “Yeah, I’m fucking serious.”

“You’re planning on telling the camp, right?”

Sighing heavily, Bellamy nodded. “It can wait until morning.”

Miller shook his head and muttered incoherently to himself. “Yeah, sure.”

* * *

The next morning, everyone gathered around Bellamy in the main courtyard. Excited murmuring filled the crowd and Bellamy raised his voice. “Hey, quiet down!”

A hush settled and Bellamy took a deep breath. “As some of you may know, we’ve been trying to contact the Ark.” He ignored the rise in chatter at the statement. “Last night we successfully reached a remote station on the Ark Network. We were informed that the Ark will be sending an Exodus ship to Earth. Today.”

The crowd burst into protest.

_“What the hell?”_

_“Are they going to try and tell us what to do again?”_

_“Fuck the Ark!”_

_“They’re just going to lock us up again!”_

Bellamy rolled his neck and ran his hands through his hair anxiously. Among the angry and bitter reactions, a few of the younger kids actually looked _relieved._ He heard one girl whisper to to the boy beside her. “Oh, thank god. Maybe they will bring supplies.” Sometimes Bellamy envied the unwavering optimism of some children.

Where there was _some_ relief, the anger was outspoken, drowning out any positive reactions. Hopping on a tree stump, Bellamy raised his arms. “Hey!” Someone may have yelled _fuck you_ in response. “This is happening whether we like it or not. Because, if you haven’t noticed, we’re not _alone_ down here. And as much as I hate to say this.” _Because God he did._ “ We need the knowledge and supplies that the Ark can provide.”

This shit was going down.

“Now… get back to your duties!”

As the crowd dispersed, heated words still passing between delinquents, Bellamy hurried to make himself busy. He checked the progress on Roma as she finished some makeshift shelves in the artillery and took inventory of their equipment. He checked on Miller and the guard posts. He counted and double counted the rations in the storage room. All the while, Octavia remained glued to Jasper's side, keeping her mouth shut about the turn of events.

By midday, Bellamy found himself in a clearing watching the sky. It was nearing launch time and his anxiety was rising-- he had to be told twice by Brenna to stop pacing in front of her work station. He was about to apologize for the second time when something dark in the sky caught his eye. _The Exodus Ship._

His heart hammered in his chest as the ship hurtled through the atmosphere. No. Something was wrong, it was moving too fast.

"Something's wrong," Bellamy breathed, and he shot a look to Brenna.

Brenna scrambled to reach for the radio.

"Earth to Ark Station, this is Brenna. Come in."

_Static._

"Brenna Valerie with the drop ship. Come in Ark Station."

_Static._

"No one is answering, Bellamy."

The ship was still flying towards the Earth, it couldn't be but a few miles above the ground now.

 _"Bellamy!"_ Octavia's voice cried out to him. "Bellamy, I need you!"

Bellamy dragged his eyes from the sky and saw Octavia running from the tent. "It's Jasper, something's wrong."

He was frozen in his spot, his eyes darting back to the black figure in the sky. Octavia pleaded with him. "Bellamy!"

 _"No,"_ he whispered as the ship hurtled into a mountainside, a dark cloud of smoke billowed up into the sky with a loud booming crash.

Bellamy felt his knees go weak and he struggled to stay standing.

"Bellamy," Octavia croaked. "Jasper is seizing."

"The ship," he said soberly.

Bellamy dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe. Octavia circle around and knelt in front of him. Violent tremors wracked through him, and he whispered, "She's dead."

Octavia reached out and touched Bellamy's cheek. "Oh my god. Bellamy."

Bellamy blinked back the tears that blinded him, and shrugged off his sister's touch. He rose to his feet, brushing off his pants with shaky hands. "Take me to Jasper."

* * *

The tent was muggy and Jasper's body lay convulsing on the table. Bellamy stared at him. "I-I don't know what to do, Octavia."

Octavia was crying now. "He's going to die, Bellamy."

"I don't know what to do, OCTAVIA!" Bellamy roared.

She shrank back just as Jasper's body dropped limply. Octavia rushed to his side and grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse. Leaning in close she listened for signs of life, shallow breathing-- _anything._

"He's gone," she whispered.

Bellamy felt suffocated again, his skin tight and a sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes. He tore through the flaps of the tent and began running, leaving the gates of camp behind. Ignoring the cries from the other delinquents he kept running until he reached a small stream and he collapsed.

Tearless sobs surged through him, making it difficult to catch his breath as he shook. Bellamy let out a strangled yell, roaring until his voice felt hoarse and raw.

He wasn't sure how long he sat out there, twenty minutes or two hours. Suddenly the tears came freely, and he sat there weeping for the loss. The eleven delinquents. The Exodus Ship. Jasper. _Clarke._

What was he supposed to do next?

He let the pain of it keep him anchored to his spot by the creek until a high-pitched scream tore through the forest and he bolted upright. Bellamy struggled to his feet and sprinted back to camp, he found the kids running on high alert. He saw Miller ushering some of the smaller kids into the drop ship.

"Miller!" Bellamy barked. "What's going on?"

_"Grounders!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final note: Obviously this was all Bellamy's narrative. Part three's timeline will be happening simultaneously, only with Clarke's narrative. It should be up this weekend, so stay tuned and ready for more (subscribe, bookmark, etc.).
> 
> If you're going to leave a review, please think twice before leaving one with **just** the words "Update soon!" It can be pretty discouraging, when I've just worked so hard to provide you with one. Your kind words do so much to encourage and motivate, so please don't be shy with the comments. ;)
> 
> Come cry with me on [tumblr](http://nathenmiller.tumblr.com) (I have recently moved blogs) -- my ask box is always open!
> 
> Keep your eyes and ears open for Part Three, coming your way very soon!
> 
> (K BYE I LOVE YOU)


	3. clarke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place simultaneously with Chapter Two; _Clarke_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support on the return of Chapter Two. I'm hoping you all freak out with Chapter Three. Like, freak the fuck out. 
> 
> Once again a HUGE shout out to my amazing beta Lauren, who just makes me better.

_part three; clarke_

* * *

 

A raucous crowd had formed in front of the command center. People were yelling, demanding to know about the station that had just been ejected. Clarke pushed her way through the fray, emerging at the front of crowd to see Callie Cartwig, another council member, perched on the top step to the command center, trying to calm the chaos of people around her.

“If everyone can calm down, I can let you know what’s happened” The crowd lulled to a soft murmuring. “The disturbance to the Ark that you felt moments ago was an unintentional ejection of a non-essential piece of the Ark during a routine maintenance check.” Her was voice steady and sure. “There were no injuries and Engineering is currently looking into the root of the malfunction that caused the ejection. I can assure you there is no need for worry. Thank you, that is all for now.”

 _What a load of bullshit,_  Clarke thought tersely.

Clarke watched Callie retreat back into the command center, away from the momentarily pacified crowd, to take her place beside Abby. Through the glass doors, Clarke caught Abby’s gaze and she stopped in the middle of a sentence. Shaking her head, Clarke glared at her mother as her face hardened. Suddenly, Abby’s attention was ripped away as her comm began beeping loudly and Clarke heard the faint announcement coming over the loudspeakers in the command center.

_“Dr. Abby Griffin, you are required in medical. I repeat, Dr. Griffin, please report to medical immediately.”_

Melting back into the crowd, Clarke turned and shoved her way out the other side. Once free, she broke into a sprint down the corridor towards medical. Rounding the corner, she saw her mother pushing on the door of the prep room, beginning her scrub-in routine. Clarke looked around for a nurse until Jackson emerged from the O.R. and she rushed him. “Jackson!”

“Clarke, you shouldn’t be here.” He stripped off his bloody gloves and tossed them in a nearby bin.

“Don’t give me that shit, Jackson. What’s happening?” Clarke stared him down, focusing on him the full force of her determination to get answers from somebody, _anybody_ , on this damn ship.

Jackson hesitated for a moment before looking around for bystanders and leaning in stiffly. “Jaha was shot.”

 _“What?!”_ Clarke snapped loudly, making Jackson jump and shush her furiously.

Shifting somewhat nervously from foot to foot he went on, “The bullet pierced through the abdominal area and it doesn’t look good.” He looked up just in time to see Abby all scrubbed-in and push through the doors to the operating room. “I have to get back in there and assist your mother.”

Clarke swallowed, trying to process everything that was happening. Nodding, she took a step back to allow him passage to the O.R. He disappeared behind the large white doors, leaving Clarke in the waiting area clutching at her shoulders.

* * *

Hours had passed with Clarke’s pacing when she heard raised voices. Jackson burst through the doors, Abby at his heels.

Her scrubs were bloody and her face was gaunt with exhaustion. “You don’t have to be there for it, Jackson.” Abby pleaded.

Jackson looked at her sadly. “You’re breaking the law, Abby and it doesn’t matter why or who’re you’re doing it for! They will float you!”

“I am doing this, Jackson, and I can do it by myself.”

He scoffed. “You won’t even be able to finish the operation if you use your own blood, Abby!”

“I’ll do it.”

Jackson and Abby both spun around, surprised to see Clarke standing there, arms crossed against her chest.

Abby shook her head. “No, Clarke.”

“If you need blood, take mine.” Clarke looked back and forth between the two doctors, Jackson gaping at her. Any color that remained her mother’s face drained as she continued to wave Clarke off.

“You don’t--”

“I’ll do it. I’m a universal donor. Let me do it.”

Abby frowned, her displeasure with this turn of events clearly showing on her face. “Fine.” Clarke let out a sharp exhale. “But I have to run a quick test. Get into O.R. two.”

Jackson deflated as Clarke brushed past them, and Abby felt her heart clench. As she reached the room, Clarke threw a look over at her shoulder to see Abby and Jackson speaking animatedly in hushed tones. The sudden realization that she could get floated sudden hit her and she swallowed back the bile pushing it’s way up. She couldn’t save Wells, but perhaps she could say Thelonious.

* * *

Clarke woke up slowly, eyes heavy from being pulled out of unconsciousness. Abby’s head snapped up when she roused. “Clarke, you’re awake.”

“Mom?” She groaned.

Abby brushed a hair away from her daughter’s face. “Hey, baby.”

Clarke tried to swallow but her throat was dry and scratchy. Her mouth felt like it had been lined with sandpaper.

“Here.” Her mother handed her a cup of water. She took it graciously before downing it in a few swallows. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before blinking them open rapidly. She turned her head to look at her mother settled beside her looking exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was frizzy in a way that reminded Clarke of the day her father was floated.

Wincing, she sat up and Abby helped adjust the pillow behind her head. “What happened? How long have I been out?”

Abby’s tired eyes softened. “About twelve hours. After we tested your blood, we drew what we needed for Thelonious. When you got up from the table you passed out and hit your head on the counter.”

Reaching instinctively for her scalp, Clarke found a tender spot and winced at her own touch. “Oh.”

Abby reached behind her and grabbed her tablet. “There’s more.”

Clarke tried to sit up straighter and was hit with a wave of nausea. She leaned over the side of the bed and heaved into the bucket set aside for her. Abby reached for her hand, covering it with her own. “After you fainted, I ran a few more tests on your blood.”

They sat in silence as Clarke thought about what she could mean.

“You’re pregnant,” Abby added softly, cautiously studying Clarke’s face.

“I-I’m what?” Clarke choked.

Her mother offered her a soft smiled. “You’re pregnant, Clarke. It’s early, a few weeks, but the blood tests are fairly conclusive.

Clarke felt sick to her stomach. She was going to throw up again.

She did.

* * *

Her mother left her alone for a few minutes, allowing her to use the restroom and pull herself together. A few minutes later, she returned and crawled in bed with her to recount the rest of the last twelve hours.

Clarke sipped on a large cup of water as she listened. Kane had stormed into medical, followed by Commander Shumway and several high ranking members of the guard. He arrested Abby for surpassing the legal limit for blood transfusion.

“He wanted to bring you in, too, for aiding and abetting, but I think the whole _she’s unconscious in a hospital bed_ thing deterred him."

She smiled, handing the cup back to her mother and squirming back against the pillows.

“They brought me to the airlock. Kane had his hand on the lever when Jaha burst through the door and pardoned me.” She grabbed Clarke’s hand. “You should have seen the look on Marcus’ face.” Abby stayed silent for a moment. “I know I am not your favorite person right now, I _know_ that. I just hope you know I have only tried to do what’s best… for everyone--”

Clarke squeezed her mom’s hand. “Thank you.”

Abby returned the gesture, clearing her throat. “I’ll let you get some rest.” She moved to extricate herself from the bed but Clarke didn’t release her hand.

“You can stay.” She added quickly. “If… if you want to.” Clarke could admit to herself she needed family right now, even if it was the woman who had her father floated.

Her face lit up and she wiggled back under the covers as Clarke curled into her side like she did as a child. Abby stroked her hair as the room settled into a comfortable silence and her daughter’s breathing evened out as she fell asleep.

* * *

Two days later, Abby dropped by the apartment and found Clarke wrapped up in their comforter by the toilet.

“Hey, how you feeling?”

Clarke shrugged. “Just queasy.”

Her mother found a spot on the floor beside her and Clarke knew something was wrong.

“Mom, what is it?” Clarke asked.

Abby frowned. “Commander Shumway identified the shooter.”

“Okay…” Clarke was confused. “Who was it?”

Abby pursed her lips, her eyes softening as they looked at Clarke sadly.

“Mom.” She urged. “Mom, who was it?”

Abby sighed. “It was Bellamy, honey.”

Her throat dropped to her stomach. “No. No, Bellamy wouldn’t-- no.”

“Clarke--”

“No, Mom! That doesn’t make any sense.” She scrambled to her feet. “What-- why would he?”

Abby pushed up from the floor. “His sister was on the ship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, but, I mean-- he said something about trying to save her but, I never thought-- no, there has to be another explanation, Mom.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I just wanted you to hear from me before rumors started flying around the Ark.” Abby moved to walk out the door, briefly pausing to squeeze Clarke’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture before leaving her alone with her raging emotions.

Clarke dropped back to the bathroom floor feeler sicker than she had since finding out she was pregnant.

* * *

The command center seemed much more welcoming than her apartment these days. Abby showed her the control board with all the information for the kids on the ground.

“All the kids are wearing wristbands that transmit their vital signs back to us. However, we lost all radio communication with them upon re-entry to the Earth’s atmosphere.”

They couldn’t tell what the conditions of Earth actually were at this point. Two boys’ transmissions ended at the time of the landing and Kane was convinced the conditions were dangerous. He called for a Culling in the council meeting and Abby fought with him, demanding him for more time.

“We don’t know that Earth is survivable, Abby, we’ve already lost two kids!”

“We don’t know that it _isn’t_ survivable! There is no way to tell that those deaths were related to radiation. Leighton says it could have been the rough re-entry. The same reason we lost communication.”

Marcus shook his head. “We don’t have time to spare waiting for some _criminal kids_ to determine if Earth is survivable.”

Abby got in his face. “Well, if you’ve got a better idea, _Marcus_ \-- one that doesn’t involve killing three hundred people-- feel free to let me know!”

Clarke skimmed over the large screen. It had been five days since the drop ship landed and the number of Transmission Terminated screens had increased sufficiently.

_Aryn Hope: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_

_Myles Mason: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_

_Brenna Valerie: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_

_Roma Walker: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_

_John Mbege: TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_

The list went on, nearly half the kids were dead according to these wristbands. One name, however, brought tears of relief to her eyes.

_Octavia Blake: TRANSMISSION ACTIVE_

She thought about Bellamy. Was he alive? Was he okay? Suddenly feeling suffocated, Clarke retreated to the long hallway that led to the Outlook. Turning a corner, she barreled into a wiry girl with dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail.

“Hey, watch it!” The girl snapped.

Clarke straightened her blouse. “I’m sorry, I-- hey!”

The girl looked confused. “Hey?”

“You’re Raven Reyes.” Clarke had heard her name a dozen times over the last few months: _Raven Reyes, youngest zero-g mechanic in fifty-two years!_ “What are you doing on this level?”

Raven’s expression darkened. “There was a call for a mechanic.”

Clarke looked at her suspiciously. “Where are your tools?”

“I--” Raven looked down at her empty hands, sighing sharply. “A drop ship launched. They called it a ‘maintenance accident’, but I’m not buying it.”

“So, what?” Clarke crossed her arms against her chest. “You thought you’d sneak into the Command Center and see what’s up?”

She scoffed before rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me you buy into that bullshit, Princess. I know they floated your dad and I know it wasn’t for the bullshit charge they said it was for.”

Clarke grimaced at the nickname, studying the blunt, forceful girl in front of her. With a quick lick of her lips, Clarke tipped her head. “It wasn’t a maintenance accident.”

A smug smile pulled at Raven’s lips. “I knew it.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Clarke saw that the Command Center was still empty. She grabbed Raven’s wrist and dragged her into the room. “We don’t have much time.” Raven froze mid-step when she saw the large transmission screens blinking red.

Clarke licked her lips. “They sent the Sky Box to Earth.”

Raven’s face dropped. “Fucking hell.”

“All the kids have a wristband on that transmits their vitals back to us. Other than that, we’ve lost all contact with the ground. Right now we’re flying blind with no idea of what’s happening down there.”

“What can I do?” Raven asked, turning to Clarke determinedly.

“What?”

Raven looked at her sternly. “You wouldn’t have told me about this if you didn’t have your own ideas about the situation.”

“Well, I--” Clarke thought about it. “Can you contact the ground?”

“Who do you need to contact?”

“My husband shot the chancellor to get on the drop ship to save his sister.” Clarke ignored the pointed look. “I need-- I just need to know that they’re okay.”

The girls stood facing each other, both unmoving.

Raven squinted then spoke. “I think there might be a way.” Clarke perked up at that. “But, we probably shouldn’t talk about it here. I’m assuming you wouldn’t want the council to know you’re trying to contact the ground behind their backs.”

Clarke shook her head.

“Okay. Meet me in Engineering tomorrow at two. Be discreet.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

* * *

She found Raven’s workstation and the mechanic motioned for Clarke to follow her through the labyrinth of switchboards, piping and vents. “Where are we going?” Clarke whispered.

Raven gave her a look that said _shut up_. They approached a young Asian boy hunched over a panel of circuitry. His eyes flitted from his work to one of the several computer monitors perched on his desk. Raven cleared her throat and braced her hands on the edge of the table. “Monty.”

Monty lifted his head slowly. “Raven, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“They sent the Sky Box to the ground.”

Dropping the tool he had positioned between his fingers, Monty’s voice rose from his previous hushed tone. “What?”

Raven shoved a thumb in Clarke’s direction. “This is Clarke, and we need to make contact with the ground. Discreetly.”

“We’ve met,” Clarke said quietly, reflecting on her encounter with Monroe in the clinic.

Monty met Clarke’s gaze with assurance. “Sure, whatever I can do.”

* * *

Clarke sat in Exam four. She waited for her mother, nervously fiddling with her thumbs until the curtain drew back and Abby stepped into the room.

“Okay, Clarke. How are you feeling today?”

“Good.” _Lie._ She was tired, and scared. Scared of doing any of this without Bellamy.

Abby pulled up her chart on her tablet.

“What sort of symptoms have you been dealing with?”

Clarke thought for a moment. “My boobs hurt. A lot.”

That earned a laugh from her mother. “Anything else?”

“Just a little tired. I haven’t been extremely hungry either.”

Abby nodded along as Clarke spoke. “When did you and Bellamy first have sex?”

Clarke flushed. This was _not_ a conversation she wanted to have with her mother at present. “Um, I guess it was a couple of weeks before the launch. Maybe three? So, like a four weeks ago.”

“How often did you have intercourse?”

 _Oh my god._ “Jesus, Mom.”

“Clarke, I’m a _doctor._ ”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. We’ve had… I mean, he’s come...” _Fucking hell._ “He’s ejaculated inside of me four, maybe five times?” Clarke wanted to hide behind her hands. “It was all in like a two-week period. Before his mother was floated.”

“Okay, and when was your last cycle?”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about that recently, she had had her implant removed the week before the wedding. “I was on it the week Wells died. I think I would have finished it about two weeks before Bellamy and I started having sex.”

Abby finished typing on her tablet and looked up at her daughter. “Based on those numbers, I’d put you at five weeks and six days along. So, nearly six weeks.” Clarke smiled. “Stay hydrated. If you get tired: rest. I’ll make sure your rotation schedule gets bumped down to four hours a day. If you experience any bleeding beyond the normal spotting, come to medical immediately.”

Clarke slid off the table.

“Now would probably be a good time to study up on your OB materials,” Abby teased.

“Thanks Mom.” A breathy laugh escaped Clarke’s mouth, easing the awkward tension she felt. “I’ll see you later.” She slipped out the door, quietly making her way back to the apartment.

* * *

Clarke spent a few days just watching Raven and Monty work. No contact had been made and there was no way to know what the kids on the ground were doing to restore communication.

“It’s possible that Jasper would think to try reverse engineering and try to fix it, or-- he might sit there and bug Brenna until _she_ fixed it.”

“Who’s Jasper?”

Monty smiled sadly. “He’s my brother. Well, I mean, he’s obviously not my real brother, but he’s been there for as long as I can remember. Our parents work together; we got locked up together, if that says anything.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You were in the Sky Box?”

He hummed in affirmation.

“That have anything to do with the illegal prescription you helped me with a couple of months ago?”

Monty blushed. “Yeah, we got in trouble for distribution a while back. I got pardoned when I turned eighteen. Jasper doesn’t turn eighteen for a few months, plus he’s Unviable.”

“I’m sorry.” Clarke reached out a touched Monty’s arm briefly.

“I knew his odds are getting pardoned were slim, but sending them to Earth? That seems a bit extreme.”

Clarke shrugged. “The Ark is dying. _They_ figured it would buy them some time.”

“They?”

“Yeah, my mom-- the Council. It was her proposal.” Clarke stared at her hands twisted together in her lap. “She saw the kids as _expendable_ , Jaha’s words, and this way they can determine if Earth is survivable.”

Raven joined the conversation. “So far their vitals are stable.”

“What do you think is killing them?” Clarke asked.

“I don’t.”

Clarke shot her a look. “Don’t what?”.

Raven sort of stared at her before shrugging playfully. “They’re taking their wristbands off.”

Monty paused. “Huh. That actually makes sense.”

Clarke frowned.

“Hear me out.” He gestured towards her. “You tell a bunch of kids, delinquents, to do something-- something that will help the Ark. What do you think they are going to do?”

“The exact opposite,” Raven said, now smiling.

“Plus, there are the few, like Jasper and Brenna, who might be smart enough to try and reverse engineer them. So that could account for a few more terminated transmissions.”

Nodding, Clarke clicked her tongue. “Okay, so maybe there’s hope.”

“Yeah, if Jasper doesn’t try to smoke every new plant he comes across.” Monty snorted, shaking his head fondly.

* * *

“Raven, how old are are you?”

They were squished together rather uncomfortably in the vent near the control room, trying to listen to Abby and Kane discuss the wristbands for the hundredth time.

“Almost nineteen.”

Clarke chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You’re not married.” It wasn’t a question.

Raven clenched her jaw. “No. I’m not.”

Only the sound of machine hum filled the ventilation shaft.

“I petitioned my Unviable status to waive the arranged marriage.” Raven sighed.

Clarke nodded slowly. “I’m sorry?”

Raven shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.” She turned to look through the thin slits of the vent. A few minutes passed and Raven huffed. “Clarke, if you keep staring at me like that you’re going to burn a hole in my head.”

Clarke blushed, looking down at her hands. “Sorry.”

“Is there something else on your mind?”

“I just--” Clarke started. “Why are you helping me?”

Raven frowned. “I don’t know. You basically asked me to.”

That garnered a small laugh. “No, I mean. I know that. But, what do you get out of this?”

Raven licked her lips. “You’re not the only one with someone you care about on the ground.” Clarke raised an eyebrow. “My boyfriend was in lock-up. He’s the only family I’ve got.”

It was painfully quiet.

“Look.” Raven sighed. “This system is majorly fucked up, okay? Neither of us are Viable, and we thought maybe one day we’d be allowed to marry each other. But then dumbass over there had to go and get locked up. I just-- he saved me. I owe it to him to try.”

Clarke listened intently, allowing the weight to settle. “I’m pregnant,” she said after a few minutes of silence.

“Like, _with child_ pregnant?”

“What other kind of pregnant is there?”

The mechanic shrugged. “But, okay, wow. Pregnant, huh? And your husband _still_ went down to Earth?”

“He didn’t know.” Clarke played with the end of her braid. Raven gave her a funny look. “I just found out. It’s early. He doesn’t know and I don’t know how to do this without him.”

The girl reached out and covered Clarke’s clenched fists with her own warm hands. “You got us.”

Clarke hummed, smiling sadly at Raven, sitting across from her. “Is Monty Viable?”

Raven looked at her hands. “Ha, yeah. But, uh, I don’t think he’s looking forward to getting matched.”

“What? Why not?”

With a pointed look, Raven scoffed. “Seriously? That kid is _gay_.”

Clarke pursed her lips into a slight _O_.

* * *

Morning sickness hit a week later. It had been almost three weeks since the drop ship went to Earth and the vomiting was just a painful reminder of the only part of Bellamy she had left. Her mother had dropped her rotations down to three days a week, and she was too tired most days to make it out to Engineering to bug Monty and Raven.

Clarke was eating lunch in her apartment when Raven burst through the door without knocking.

"Raven?" She muttered through a full mouth.

"The Council is meeting, _right now._ "

"Okay...?" Clarke drawled.

Raven was panting. "They're going to launch the Exodus ship. Tomorrow!"

Clarke swallowed suddenly, coughing. "W-What?"

“Your mom convinced Kane that the stability of the delinquents’ vitals over the last week indicates a survivable environment. They are going to send the ship with a med team, as well as the first portion of the population."

Clarke grabbed her bag from beside the door and brushed past Raven into the hallway. "I have to get on that ship."

Raven grabbed her elbow. "Wait, they won't be finished for another hour and Monty thinks he may have had a breakthrough.” Clarke nodded and trailed behind Raven as they made their way to Engineering.

"Monty, give me some good news." Clarke breathed as they reached his desk.

Monty smiled, bouncing excitedly on his bench. "I'm not sure, but I think I tapped into some short range channels. I can't say that anyone will hear us. But it's possible."

"Well? Let's try!"

Monty nodded and turned a knob on the radio, bringing the volume up a few decibels.

"Hello?"

_Static._

"This is Monty Green from Ark Station, is anyone out there?"

_Static._

"Hello?"

Clarke's heart hammered when a garbled sound came from the radio.

"What was that?" Clarke demanded.

Monty shook his head. "I don't know!"

_"This is Brenna from the drop ship, come in. Over."_

"Oh my god." Clarke brought her hand to her mouth.

Monty beamed. "Brenna? Brenna Valerie?"

_"Yes, this is her. Who is this?"_

"This is Monty Green, I'm with Raven Reyes and Clarke Griffin--"

 _"Clarke?"_ A husky voice cut him off and Clarke nearly choked, a well of emotion bubbling up inside of her, her hand instinctively dropping to her abdomen.

She grabbed the radio from Monty's hand. "Bellamy?"

Raven frowned. "Is that--"

Clarke smiled. "My husband."

 _"Clarke."_ She heard his voice start to break.

"Oh my god, Bellamy, you're okay. I didn't-- I thought--" She couldn't finish.

 _"I'm okay."_ Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. _"I'm okay, Octavia's okay."_

Clarke swallowed, feeling Monty and Raven's eyes on her, "Talk to us, tell us what's happening down there."

There was an uncomfortable pause.  _"We’ve suffered some losses.”_

Clarke’s stomach churned. “How many?”

_“Eleven.”_

“Jesus, Bellamy.” She blurted out.

_“We aren't alone down here."_

"What do you mean?"

_"We went in search of Mount Weather and one of the kids was speared as soon as he crossed the river that surrounded it. He's, uh, he's not doing well."_

"Is he going to make it?"

_"I don't, uh, I don't think so, Clarke. It's bad. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long."_

She reeled with the realization that she could have helped, if she was down there. Clarke didn't even realize the grip she had on the radio until Raven reached for it, brushing her fingers reluctantly against Clarke’s, trying not to spook her. Clarke released her hold and allowed Raven to take the radio.

"Bellamy, the council is planning on launching the Exodus ship. There will be a medical unit on board. Keep the kid alive until then, can you do that?"

_"How long until they launch?"_

"Disengagement is set for tomorrow afternoon, we’ll know more soon." Raven assured him.

_"Okay, we'll try to hold on until then, Raven."_

There was a slight pause.

_"Brenna needs to speak to Monty."_

Clarke gestured to Raven and took the radio once more. "Bellamy?"

_"I have to go, Clarke. Stay safe."_

Clarke didn't want him to leave, but she understood. "You too, and Bellamy? Who's the kid?"

She just wanted him to keep talking.

_"Uh, his name is Jordan. Jasper Jordan."_

Clarke's heart plummeted, and she looked at Monty whose face had darkened. Clarke slowly held out the radio to him.

"Jasper? You're sure?" His voice hoarse as he fought back overwhelming emotions.

_"Yeah, I'm sure."_

Monty sniffed. "Give Brenna the radio."

* * *

The Council was still hidden behind closed doors, so Clarke took a seat outside the room. Bellamy’s voice echoed in her head. _Clarke?_ She held her hands against her stomach, _I’m okay_.

“We’re okay,” she whispered.

A minute later, the Council was filing out of the room. Abby appeared in the doorway and Clarke rose to her feet quickly nearly falling over.  

“Mom--”

“Clarke.” She brushed past her and headed toward Medical.

“Mom!” Clarke raised her voice, catching Abby’s elbow.

“Not here, Clarke,” Abby hissed.

She trailed at her mother’s heels until they reached her office. Abby barely got the door closed before Clarke blurted out. “I need to be on the Exodus ship.”

Abby whipped her head around. “I’m not going to ask how you _know_ about the Exodus ship, Clarke. But, that isn’t up for discussion.”

Her eyes pleaded with the Chief Surgeon’s. “Mom. Please, I need to be on that ship.”

Abby’s gaze dropped to her still flat belly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, considering.”

Clarke grew frustrated. “Bellamy is down there. He needs me. I need to go to Earth.”

They stood in a heated face-off, neither one of them willing to stand down.

Abby narrowed her gaze on Clarke. “Is there something I should know, Clarke?”

Clarke stared back with her icy, blue eyes. "We made contact with the ground."

Abby's eyes widened. "Were you going to share this information?"

Clarke grimaced. "Yes… no-- _I don't know_. Eleven kids have died, Mom. Another one is dying. They aren't alone down there, someone _attacked_ them."

"And you don't think _that_ was important information to share?!"

"I'm sharing it now!"

"Dammit, Clarke." Abby sighed, pressing two fingers to her temple.

Clarke stepped closer, wrapping her hands around Abby's clenched fist. "Please, mom. Let me go with the med unit."

Abby stood there stubbornly, studying her daughter. An eternity dragged by in the minute she stayed silent, until she finally spoke. "Okay, but only if you let me do a thorough examination on you. I have to make sure you and the baby are healthy enough to make the drop."

Clarke smiled and threw her arms around her mother whispering into the crook of her neck. "Thank you."

Withdrawing from the embrace, Abby sighed. “How did you even make contact with the ground?”

Clarke gave her a blank look.

“Someone had to have helped you, right?” Abby prodded.

Still refusing to answer, Clarke shuffled on her feet.

“Well, who did you speak to on the ground?” The agitation in Abby’s voice became more apparent.

Clarke remained passive.

“Clarke--”

“Mom, _please_. Can you just leave it, for once?” Clarke pleaded. “For me?”

Abby pursed her lips, silent for a moment. With a sigh, she nodded slowly. “Okay… _okay._ ”

* * *

Clarke wandered back to Engineering and found Monty still talking to Brenna, trying to assess the damage to the drop ship communication panel and see what they could do to increase their range. She sat there quietly until Monty stopped, asking Brenna to hold on.

"You look like you want to ask me something, Clarke."

"Do you think you could ask Brenna to get Bellamy back on the radio?"

Monty let out a small laugh, shaking his head lightly. "Yeah, yeah. Hold on."

A few minutes later, Clarke sat quietly at Monty's desk. He'd given her some privacy, promising to return in a bit to wrap up the call.

_"Clarke?"_

"Bellamy." Clarke's heart clenched in her chest.

It was quiet, Clarke mentally kicking herself for not knowing what to say.

_"Are you okay?"_

"I'm okay." The breathing came a little easier now. "I've talked to my mother about getting on the med unit assigned to the Exodus ship. She agreed that it's probably a good idea." Kind of a lie, but she didn't want to push him.

A quiet beat passed before Bellamy responded.  _"Yeah, okay. That's good."_

Clarke felt a rush of emotion, "I'm so sorry, Bellamy." Her voice shook. "It should never have come to this. I want you to know that you and Octavia are my family, and I would never want anything bad to happen to either of you." Her hand rested firmly on her stomach, and it flopped at the word _family._

_"They know it was me, don't they? That I killed Jaha."_

Clarke realized at that moment that he didn't know Jaha was alive.

"Bellamy, Jaha isn't dead."

_"What?"_

"The gunshot wasn't fatal. He lost a lot of blood, and Dr. Gri-, my mother broke the law and gave him a blood transfusion that saved his life. Kane tried to have her floated but Jaha, uh, checked himself out of the intensive care wing and pardoned her." She didn't mention it was her blood that was used in the transfusion or that Kane was very close to including her in the charges.

_"He's not dead."_

It wasn't a question.

"Bellamy, you didn't kill Thelonious."

 _"I didn't kill Jaha."_ Clarke wanted to laugh at how relieved he sounded.

"No."

_"But, I still shot him."_

Clarke winced. "Let me worry about that, Bellamy. You did what you had to do. I still have time, I'll make them see that. You worry about keeping those kids alive, okay?"

A pregnant pause passed.

_"It was Shumway, Shumway gave me the gun."_

This surprised Clarke, as Shumway had been the one to identify Bellamy as the shooter. "Shumway? The Commander?"

_"He told me if I wanted to get on the drop ship, if I wanted to see Octavia again, that I had to shoot Jaha."_

Clarke found herself nodding, she knew there had to have been an explanation. "I will alert the Council immediately. He has to be working with the Coalition... there's more to this than we know.”

Another moment of silence passed.

_"The kid that stabbed Wells is down here, we've got him locked away in the ship. So far, he hasn't said a word to us."_

Clarke felt her heart in her throat, and her stomach churned angrily. "You're sure it's him?"

_"Yeah, Miller confirmed it. We'll find out what he knows though, about the Coalition... about Wells. We have to."_

Clarke swallowed back tears. "Thank you, Bellamy."

_"I'll see you tomorrow, then, I guess."_

The idea of seeing him assuaged some of the anxiety that had bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. "Tomorrow."

* * *

Clarke met her mother in Medical for her final check-up before they were set to launch later that afternoon.

"Shumway's been detained. His trial is set for tomorrow."

Clarke had gone directly to the Council to share the news of Shumway's involvement in Jaha's assassination attempt. Abby helped convince them that Bellamy was manipulated into shooting the Chancellor and Jaha finally agreed to pardon Bellamy. Shumway was arrested moments later.

Nodding, Clarke felt another small bubble of anxiety pop as she thought of Bellamy. "Good."

“How has the nausea been?”

She shrugged. “On and off. It’s worse in the afternoons.” Abby smiled. “Why the hell do they even call it morning sickness?”

Abby laughed and drew a small vial of blood. “You will have access to the comm room as a member of the med unit. Several of the medical officers have experience with pregnancies, but you can call me if you have _any_ questions or if something happens, okay?”

Clarke nodded as she rolled her sleeve back down. Hopping down from the table, she grasped her mother’s forearm. “Thank you.”

Abby turned to her with wet eyes. "I wish I was going with you, but I'm needed up here."

Clarke swallowed. "I know. I'm going to be okay. I promise."

She wasn't quite sure if she completely believed that, though.

* * *

Monty and Raven hung back in Engineering as the Exodus team prepped for their launch. Clarke wound her way through the stations until she reached them. Monty walked her through the radio he’d set up to reach them, and _only_ them, if she needed it.

Raven pulled her in for a hug. “You take care of yourself. And the little nugget.” She poked the soft flesh of her belly. Clarke just laughed and kissed her cheek fondly.

“I’ll let you know about Finn, yeah?” Clarke offered. Raven nodded, an unspoken thank you.

Monty gave her a hug, too. It was warm and she really didn’t want to leave them. “You’ll be on the next ship?”

He gave a quick nod. “That’s the plan. My parents are on the Agro team set for the next drop.”

“Good.”

Clarke sighed happily. “May we meet again.”

* * *

The afternoon approached rapidly. She’d already brought her small carry-on bag of personal belongings that she was allotted and she worked to stock the ship. Assisting Milah and several of the nurses to carry the equipment on-board, Clarke realized she’d forgotten something in the apartment.

"Milah, I have to get one last thing from my apartment. I'll be back before the launch."

Milah nodded at her and Clarke hurried off to her residential wing.

Bellamy had an old sweater that she’d gotten in the habit of wearing to bed most nights. It was draped over the back of the couch and she grabbed it. Suddenly, the ship lurched violently and an alarm sounded. Clarke took off down the hall when her comm started ringing. Sliding fingers over the screen, she answered the call.

"Clarke?" Her mother sounded out of breath.

"Mom? Mom, what's happening, the ship--"

"Are you on the Exodus ship?"

Clarke's heart hammered. "No, I--"

"Oh, thank god." Her voice broke.

"Mom, what's going?" Panic rose in her chest.

The comm beeped at her, and Clarke drew it away to see that Abby had ended the call. Picking up her pace, she reached the drop ship bay. A large crowd had gathered at the doors and Clarke saw Abby and Marcus standing at the seal. A woman, Sydney, stood on the Exodus side glaring fiercely back at the two council members.

"Don't do this, Diana." Clarke heard her mother shout, banging on the glass.

Shoving her way through the crowd, Clarke got close enough to hear Diana's response.

"This is the way it has to be, Abby. There's going to be a new way on Earth."

"A new way?" Abby yelled. "What new way? If you launch now, you're condemning us all to death!"

 _The tremor must have been the manual override of the control systems,_ Clarke thought. If they broke the connection, it could destroy any communication the Ark had with the ground as well as damage a dozen other systems within the ship.

"Your Council isn't in control anymore, Abby." Diana spat.

Kane reacted now, "And who is? _You?"_

Diana leered at him. "The Coalition is much bigger than just me, Marcus. You'll see that."

Clarke was shaking. Diana's hand reached for the disengagement panel, and Clarke lunged forward. "No!"

With a hiss, the ship began to launch and the Ark lurched, sending people tumbling to the floor. The ship broke away violently and the overhead lights flickered. Clarke managed to scramble back to her feet and make her way to her mother. "Mom!"

"Clarke!" Abby reached out and drew Clarke against her chest.

They watched as the Exodus ship hurtled towards Earth.

* * *

Several systems were severely damaged: including water and electricity, but the oxygen levels appeared stable-- well, as stable as they could be. Clarke worked late into the night in the clinic to help those who had experienced injuries from the ship disengaging.

The ship had gone quiet by the time she'd finished and instead of heading to her apartment, she found her feet leading her to Engineering. Lights flickered in the long corridors and the familiar machine hum was quieter than usual.

Monty looked up from his work table when he heard footsteps. "Clarke?"

Raven walked in at the same moment, a random machine part in her hand as she wiped it off with a rag. She set it down on the table and wrapped her arms around Clarke, who had started shaking. "I'm sorry, I know it was important that you get to Earth," she whispered.

Clarke allowed herself to breakdown for just ten seconds, before taking a deep breath and pulling away from the embrace.

“It was important for you, too, Raven.” Clarke breathe shakily. “If I could have gotten down there and made sure everything was okay, I could have made sure you came down on the next ship and--”

Raven clenched her jaw. “Clarke, you can’t put this on yourself.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” Clarke threw her hands in the air. Raven stood there tense, the room falling into a heavy silence.

"We lost communication." Monty frowned, breaking the quiet. "The whole Ark's comm network is down. I can't even get static." Metal pieces clattered on the work table as Monty shoved back from the table

Raven dragged her hands over her face, suddenly exhausted from everything happening all at once. “Honestly, where do we even go from here? What can we possibly do next?”

Suddenly, Clarke’s face lit up. "We go to Earth."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "How exactly are we going to do that?'

"Follow me."

Ten minutes later, the three of them were crowded into an abandoned work room on the edge of Mecha Station and Clark pulled a grimy, sheet off a large object.

Raven gasped when it revealed an ancient escape pod. "This thing _has_ to be a hundred years old. How did you even find this?" She circled the machine, running her fingers over the cool, and admittedly banged up, metal surface.

"It’s falling apart and older than the two of us combined, but you can get it ready to make the drop." Clarke answered, dodging the pointed question.

It wasn't a question.

Raven turned to her, grinning smugly. "Oh, hell yes."

Monty stepped up beside Clarke. "I'm coming, too. We _all_ have someone we care about down there."

They all agreed in that moment, no matter what it took, they were getting to Earth.

_I'm coming home, Bellamy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you freak the fuck out? How do YOU FEEL!?
> 
> Leave me love. Thanks for all your support and encouragement, find me on tumblr @nathenmiller and on twitter @clarkhaleesi!


	4. always the last thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He kissed any and everywhere he could get to, so sure she might disappear before he got the chance to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, kids. You did it, you stuck with me to the end.
> 
> Happy One Year Anniversary to _bound by the secrets we share_ and happy finale.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who kept encouraging me, and extended me patience as I worked through countless spells of writers block and life being thrown at me from several different directions.
> 
> A huge thank you to Jade (BellarkeHugged/legendofclarke) and Crystal (crystalkei/cupcakesandtv) for being my sounding board, especial C, who helped me deal with some delicate material. They also read through this monster of a chapter several times at my request, helping me with all the bits.
> 
> Most importantly, thank you to my Lauren (finnsdamerons) who made this story possible. Lauren has been with me since the inception of this project. Forcing me to become a better writer, forcing me to see the bigger picture, teaching me more about my own writing. She is a godsend of a Beta/Editor/Friend, and I owe her everything for helping this story come to life.
> 
> This fic has been my project for more than a year, and I am more proud of it than anything I have ever done.
> 
> Thank you, for taking this ride with me.
> 
> Trigger warning for discussion of miscarriages and heavy themes.

_part four;_

“Miller!” Bellamy barked. “What’s going on?”

“Grounders!” Miller yelled while continuing to usher some of the younger delinquents into the dropship. Dawn was approaching and the camp was filled with a foggy haze, kids running in every direction.

Bellamy immediately went on high alert. “What the fuck do you mean G _rounders_?”

Miller tossed him the gun that was propped up against the dropship, in addition to grabbing one for himself. “They took Pascal, and the little one with the long blonde hair-- what’s her name, Marti? Mandy?”

“Mattie,” Bellamy said with a sinking feeling. He knew the little girl Miller was talking about. Bellamy made quick work of slinging the strap over his shoulder and sprinting towards the gate, Miller following right behind him.

As they approached the gate there was shouting, they saw Sterling and Finn dragging a large, tattooed man limply between them. Finn was bleeding from his abdomen and the color had drained from his face. Bellamy kept his gun trained on the Grounder, gesturing for Miller and another boy to help.

Several of the delinquents stopped in their tracks as they noticed the Grounder being dragged into camp. A few of the older delinquents that had been issued guns now had them trained on the prisoner.

Miller slotted himself into Finn’s position, Finn staggering away from the prisoner with a hand pressed to his abdomen, covered in blood. The other boy quickly shut the gate and followed up the rear as they carried him towards the dropship.

Bellamy caught Finn, his gun falling to his side as the boy swayed on his feet from bloodloss. The gunners stepped closer and Bellamy waved them towards the dropship.

“Finn, what the hell happened?” Bellamy growled as Finn slumped against him.

Finn pressed an open palm to his wound. “They had us surrounded, we were-- we couldn’t see, they took Mattie. I just-- Pascal’s dead,” Finn stuttered through the words. Bellamy turned away from the prisoner, guiding them towards the medical tent where Octavia stood, holding the tarp back.

Octavia ushered Finn into the tent where Jasper’s lifeless body still lay. Helping him onto the table, his face drained of color and he struggled to breathe.

“Octavia, I have to go take care of the situation.”

“You mean that Grounder I saw them drag into camp?” Octavia snapped, eyes not leaving Finn as she surveyed the injury.

Bellamy nodded. “We have to figure out where they came from, why they are attacking us.”

Octavia paused, looking at her brother thoughtfully. “Just be careful.”

He didn’t respond, just turned and left Octavia to deal with the patient, nearly running into another girl who had come in to help her.

* * *

Bellamy caught up with the party as they reached the main level of the dropship. He directed them to the upper level, where Mick was still being held. They struggled under the weight of the large Grounder as they brought him to the holding area, finding chains to secure him between two metal posts.

Mick’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the bloody, battered man. “You can’t leave me up here with that!”

Bellamy shot him a look. “You have something to say to me?”

Mick promptly shut his mouth, his jaw twitching.

“That’s what I thought,” Bellamy seethed, licking his lips. His eyes shot back to the man they had chained up. Mick shrunk back against the wall, watching the prisoner with apprehension.

Miller, Sterling, and Andrus circled around Bellamy, who had stepped forward. The captive man slumped against the restraints, head tucked. Squatting slightly, Bellamy dipped his head to meet the man's eyes.

"Who are you? Where do you come from?"

Dark, wide pupils glared back at him, unwavering.

Bellamy's nose flared. Licking his lip, he leaned in closer, punctuating his words sharply. "What do you want with us?"

At that moment, Octavia burst through the hatch. "Bellamy, we have a problem with Finn."

He glanced over at his sister. "I know he was stabbed, I thought you were going to stitch it up?"

"We did, but he started convulsing. The wound looks really bad, I think he might be poisoned."

Bellamy muttered an incoherent _fuck_ under his breath. In a moment of chaos, Bellamy brought his knee up into the prisoner's chest.

"Bellamy!" Octavia lunged towards him.

He shrugged her off, backing away from the scene with his hands up. Pointing towards Mick, he whispered hoarsely, "He stays here with the prisoner. Miller, you take first watch."

Miller nodded apprehensively as Bellamy moved to retreat.

“Octavia, out.” Bellamy motioned towards the hatch over his shoulder.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Bellamy nearly growled at her and she promptly shut it. Octavia brushed past him angrily and scurried down the ladder into the dropship lobby below. He let out a slow, calculated breath before following his sister out of the room.

* * *

“Raven, you said we’d be ready.”

Raven huffed and tilted her face up toward Clarke, who was hovering over her. “If you keep asking me every five minutes, then we’re not going to be ready.”

“I can't keep this from my mother much longer,” Clarke said, anxiously chewing on her cheek.

Raven glared pointedly until Clarke backed away.

It had been less than thirty-six hours since the Exodus ship launched and Clarke was more anxious than ever to get to the ground. Having lost communication, Clarke spent her time pacing back and forth as Raven and Monty worked to get everything in order, her heart aching for Bellamy to know that she was okay.

“I just need one last piece, and we’ll be in business.” Raven pushed up on her thighs to her feet, brushing grease on her pants.

Clarke nibbled her bottom lip nervously. “Estimated time of departure?”

“2200, and counting,” Raven said confidently.

Clarke looked at her watch, it read 2048, and her stomach flipped. It was almost time. But, first, she had a few things to attend to.

The metal floor creaked beneath her feet as Clarke attempted to sneak out of medical, having stuffed her pack with everything that she could fit. She closed the door gently behind her and made her way back towards the pod, supply bag slung over her shoulder.

Clarke was so wrapped up in her mission that she failed to see the light on in Abby’s office, the door cracked slightly. “Clarke?”

Frozen, Clarke turned slowly to see that Abby had extricated herself from her desk and now stood in the doorway. “What’s going on, Clarke?” Abby eyed the pack warily.

She swallowed thickly. “Just out for a walk, I’ve been feeling a little cooped up.”

Abby’s eyes flitted toward the pack on her shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

Clarke didn't have an answer that time.

“Mom--”

“Clarke, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen you sneaking around with Reyes and Green. What’s going on?”

Eyes darkening, Clarke pleaded with her mother. “I have to get to the ground, Mom.” Abby recoiled in shock. “Raven and Monty have been helping me get the old escape pod launchable. We’re leaving tonight. I’m sorry--”

“No, no, no. It’s not safe, think of the _baby_ .” 

“I _am_ thinking of the baby! This _baby_ needs their father, _I_ need their father!”

Abby reached toward her. “Clarke, please, think about this.”

Clarke stepped back, shaking her head. “I _have._ ” _Silence._ “I-I have to go.”

Without thinking, Clarke lunged forward and hugged her mother, kissing her on the cheek briefly. “I love you,” she whispered and turned away, hurrying down the corridor.

* * *

Bellamy stormed into the medical tent to see Finn where he had last seen him, lying on the table with his shirt was mostly ripped off. Bellamy saw the two inch gash in Finn’s abdomen bleeding profusely as the other girl prepared a wad of cloth strips to apply pressure to the wound.

Finn’s breathing was harsh and labored as Bellamy moved to stand beside the table.

“How are you feeling?” Bellamy asked, already cringing at how ridiculous a question it was but not knowing what else to say.

Finn glared. “Just peachy.”

The girl eyed the pair. “I think we need to find something to slow the poison. It looks like it’s spreading.” She lifted up the cloth slowly, Finn and Bellamy could see the greenish turn the wound had taken. Finn dropped his head back against the table with a _thunk._

“I-uh.” Finn sucked in a breath sharply, gesturing towards Bellamy. “There’s a plant-- a seaweed that might help. There’s some not too far from here. Take some of the younger girls, they know, I showed them.”

Bellamy nodded tensely and left to gather a couple of the girls who would know what to look for, and one of the older boys to help keep watch in case of a Grounder attack.

An hour and half later, Bellamy returned to camp with a stock of the seaweed Finn had described and brought it to the medical tent. He trusted Octavia to treat the wound and left to find some solitude after a whirlwind of the last half a day.

As the day wound down, Octavia emerged from the tent, face gaunt with exhaustion. She found him by the fire, snacking on some nuts from his rations. Sinking down beside him, he felt Octavia deflate.

“I think the seaweed is helping, but it’s not an antidote.” She snatched a couple of nuts from Bellamy and popped them in her mouth. Trying to keep Finn alive had taken it’s toll on her and she scrubbed at her face as if she could wipe away her exhaustion.

Bellamy pursed his lips, then pushed on his knees.

Octavia frowned as he stood. “Where are you going?”

“To get the damn antidote,” he said, walking determinedly towards the dropship.

* * *

“Raven!” Clarke gripped the arm of her seat, knuckles white. “What’s beeping?!”

The pod rattled and shook violently as they plummeted towards earth. Daring a turn of her head, Clarke caught Raven’s eyes. They flickered with fear for a brief moment, before snapping back to the control panel in front of her. “I don’t know, this thing is a million years old!”

“Raven--” There was warning in Clarke’s voice.

“Clarke, trust me.”

Clarke looked at Monty, who just nodded, trying to give her some sort of assurance. They were all cramped closely, Monty strapped into the makeshift third seat that Raven had rigged together. They were nearing the point of ejection when they heard a small explosion.

Monty leaned forward to try and look over Raven’s shoulder. “What was that?”

 _“Fuck,_ ” Raven muttered.

She tapped a few buttons on her screen and turn around slightly in her seat. “Clarke, Monty, no matter what happens, when I tell you to eject-- you eject. Got it?”

A lump formed in her throat, but Clarke swallowed and nodded. Monty leaned back in his seat, hands grasping at the harness keeping him strapped into the pod.

A very loud moment of silence passed as the three of them held their breath, listening to the metal creaking and straining against the pressure of entering the Earth’s atmosphere. Clarke watched the control panel intently as the screen blinked numbers and code that she couldn’t decipher.

“Ten seconds, guys!” Raven adjusted herself in her own seat.

Clarke closed her eyes, wrapped her hand around the small ejection lever beside her seat.

“Eject! Eject!” Raven yelled, a loud roar ringing in their ears as the pod began to break apart upon entry.

Clarke felt the pressure change as they got closer and closer to the ground until darkness overtook her senses.

* * *

Octavia rolled over onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position. The dropship was as far away from the medical tent as she could get and stay sheltered from the cold night air. Finn’s moaning still echoed in her ears.

They didn’t have many options, she knew that.

She could hear the muffled yelling from the upper level, and her stomach twisted in knots. Bellamy had stormed from the fireside with determination and she could only imagine what was happening up above her.

Octavia recognized her brother’s voice followed by groaning, growing louder. Whoever this man was, he was not giving anything away. Octavia cringed as she heard the prisoner yell out in protest from what she assumed was another sickening blow.

There had to be another way to get through, another way to appeal to him. She had to try.

* * *

Bellamy was breathing heavily, the man in front of him bloody and bruised.

He was tired.

He was numb.

“Give us the antidote!” he shouted again, voice hoarse from what felt like hours of yelling. The gounder didn’t even flinch, frustrating Bellamy even further.

Miller placed his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Bellamy--”

He shrugged him off angrily. Another kid was going to die, _on his watch._ Bellamy took a swing at the silent man in front him, the blow landing somewhere along the ribcage.

This wasn’t Bellamy. He couldn’t be this person.

Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and the Grounder lifted his head slowly, his dark eyes narrowing in on Bellamy.

Bellamy’s resolve to keep this up was weakening. “Please, you understand me, you _have to understand me_.”

There was a flicker of _something_ in the prisoners eye, but he remained passive.

“Bellamy,” Octavia called out, pushing her way through the hatch.

“Octavia, you shouldn’t be up here.” His back remained turned to his sister.

Octavia circled around him, forcing him to look at her. “Bellamy, this isn’t working. This isn’t _you._ Take a break, it’s late.”

Her words struck him like a blow to the chest. Bellamy knew she was right and he felt himself shrink back. Brushing past her, he climbed down the ladder without another word.

Once Bellamy was gone, Octavia turned to Miller. “Can you give me a few minutes with him?”

“But Bellamy said--”

“I don’t care _what_ Bellamy said,” Octavia interjected. “Just give me five damn minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” Her dark eyes pleaded with the lieutenant

Miller licked his lips slowly. “Yeah, okay. _Five minutes,_ ” he said pointedly and slipped out of the room.

They had long since removed Mick from the prisoner’s presence, not wanting anyone more than necessary to witness what was happening. Octavia stood in front of the man hesitantly. After a minute, she retrieved a small bowl of water and a rag from the corner of the room and set it on the floor beside the man’s feet.

He slumped against the chains and Octavia knelt before him, closing the distance slowly. She reached out, brushing her fingers against his cheek, covered in grime and blood. Recoiling at the initial contact, the man brought his eyes to meet her gaze.

“I’m just going to clean the wounds a little bit, okay?”

Octavia’s eyes widened when he nodded slightly.

“You do understand me, don’t you?” She began to dab the wet cloth at the gash on his left cheek. The man grunted softly and Octavia leaned closer. “What?”

“Linc-oln,” he said, clearing his throat.

Raising her eyebrow, Octavia chewed on her bottom lip. “Is that your name?”

He swallowed thickly with a slight nod of his head.

“I’m Octavia,” she said softly. He winced as she pressed into the wound. “Sorry,” she said, retracting her hand. “I’m also sorry for my dick of a brother.” Octavia almost laughed to herself. “He means well. It’s just been tough, on the ground.”

Octavia resumed her task and Lincoln watched her intently as she continued to speak. “Life was different in space. But, you wouldn’t know anything about that.” She dipped the cloth back in the water. “We’ve lost a lot of people, _friends._ And we’re going to lose another.” Her hand steadied against his cheek. “You could help. You could tell us where to find an antidote.”

His eyes fell.

“ _Please,_ ” she pleaded.

Lincoln struggled to look back at Octavia. “My people, they are not merciful. The ship that landed destroyed an entire village. They will do what they have to.”

“We haven’t done anything,” Octavia justified. “That ship crashed. It was an accident.”

“There is an antidote, back in my village. But if I help you, I will be cast out. I will no longer belong.”

Octavia studied him.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Octavia said quietly. “But there will never be peace between our people if Finn dies. My brother will see to that, he has nothing to lose… except me, and he will do whatever it takes to protect me.”

Lincoln clenched his jaw. “You are kind, Octavia of the Sky People.”

Octavia set the cloth back in the bowl beside her.

“Linc--”

“Octavia,” Miller said, pushing up through the hatch, clearing his throat. “Time’s up.”

Octavia swallowed hard and looked back at Lincoln, nodding at him before rising to her feet. She glanced over her shoulder at him one last time before retreating down the ladder.

* * *

Raven groaned as she came to, coughing when smoke filled her lungs.

_How long had she been out? Did she make it to the ground? Were Clarke and Monty okay?_

“Clarke,” she grunted. Raven cried out in pain as she tried to sit up, metal debris covering her. It was dark, but the pale sky was starting to peek over the treeline. _Trees._

“I made it,” she whispered. With a short burst of adrenaline, Raven pumped her fist into the air. “Fuck _yeah!_ ”

Looking around her, she squinted into her dimly lit surroundings. “Clarke? Monty?”

There was no reply.

There was a dull throbbing in her temple. Raven brought her fingers up to her head, feeling that her skin was wet with fresh blood. Her vision blurred before everything went dark.

The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake.

Raven’s head pounded as she tried to open her eyes. As her surroundings came into focus, the first thing she noticed was the man hovering over her.

“Who the hell are you?” she managed.

Bellamy frowned. “The person that pulled you from the wreckage of that ancient pod.”

Squinting, something in her brain clicked. “That voice. I know you.”

“Is that so?”

“Clarke.”

Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat, his whole body on full alert. “What?”

Raven tried to sit up, grunting in pain. “We came down together, is she here?” Raven looked around the room. Looking down, she was no longer in her flight suit, only the fitted jumpsuit she wore underneath. She sat upon a metal table, her ribs sore and aching as she held herself upright.

“There was nobody else. What do you mean you came down together?”

Frowning, Raven licked her chapped lips. “It was her idea to come down. To find you-- oh my god, Finn!” Spotting the man on the other side of the tent, Raven flung her legs off the edge of the table. The moment her feet hit the ground she rushed to Finn’s side.

“Finn,” she whispered, brushing her hand through the hair framing his face. He wasn’t awake. “What happened?”

Bellamy appeared at her side. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Half an hour later, Raven found herself sitting around a table with Bellamy, Octavia and Miller.

“Clarke came to me with the plan. We all had someone on the ground, someone to get to.”

“Clarke is alive,” Bellamy stated.

Raven looked at him, knowingly. “She was the last time I saw her.”

Bellamy felt an ache in his chest, his world had been flipped upside down, _again_.

“We lost Jasper the day the Exodus ship crashed. Then a group of us were attacked in the woods,” Miller recounted. “That’s when Finn was hurt.”

“Finn hasn’t been awake very much in the last twenty-four hours,” Octavia explained. “Whatever stabbed him was laced with something, something we don’t have an antidote for.”

“We’re working on that,” Bellamy interjected, and Octavia shot him a look of frustration.

Raven nodded.

“The Grounder we have in custody has to know something,” Miller eyed Octavia as he chose his words carefully.

Octavia glared at him. “Well, I don’t think torturing him is the way to go about that.”

“He’s _hostile_ , O,” Bellamy argued.

“That’s because you _tortured_ him!”

Bellamy growled, “What else are we supposed to do?”

“Wait, you have the monster responsible for Finn being stabbed? Here?” Raven asked darkly.

Octavia pushed up from the table. “He’s not a monster.”

Raven whipped her head around. “Finn is dying!”

The room burst into angry shouting and Miller grabbed Octavia, dragging her from the tent. Bellamy and Raven remained inside. Raven turned to Bellamy. “If you don’t do something about it, I will.”

Bellamy remained still, arms crossed against his chest as Raven stormed out. He gritted his teeth, trailing after her. “Raven, wait.”

Raven spun around, features dark. “What?” she spat.

“I’m… we’re working on the Grounder, _I promise._ I just-- Clarke, she’s-- she’s okay? What happened?”

Her eyes softened as she studied the man in front of her. Raven sighed. “She was scheduled to be on the Exodus ship, but she got held up at the last minute. She went back to your flat to get a sweater, and Diana Sydney took--”

“Sydney? The former Chancellor?”

Raven nodded. “She took control of the Exodus ship. She was going on about a _new way on Earth._ ”

“The Coalition,” Bellamy said darkly.

She hummed in response. “She doomed that entire ship-- Diana did. The whole Ark, even. We lost comms.” A light went off in Raven’s brain, and she started marching off. “ _Radio_ \-- the pod, there was a radio.”

Bellamy lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. “We got it, we took it to Brenna.”

“Oh.” Raven nodded, slowing down. Raven remained silent for a minute. “Finn is going to die.”

Bellamy deflated. “I-I don’t know what else to do, Raven.”

“Finn is my only family.” Tears betrayed her steely resolve.

“Go be with him, just--” he struggled for words. “Just, let me take care of it.”

Raven nodded. “My head is killing me.” She gave a watery laugh. “I’m going to go to the medical tent.”

Bellamy sucked in a breath. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll keep you updated on any new developments.”

“Thank you.” Raven smiled sadly.

* * *

“Clarke, are you sure you’re okay?” Monty asked, hovering close to her as they hiked through a dense wooded area. Clarke was in pain, he could see it in her face, but she refused to slow down. He had watched her eyes go wide when blood soaked into her pants. He watched her retreat behind some trees with the medical pack, returning to his side dressed in her spare pair of pants and dark, sullen eyes. And then she marched off into the woods, refusing to slow down for the next two days.

Monty struggled to keep up with her pace. “Clarke will you stop for two seconds, we don’t even know where we are. We could be going in the entirely wrong direction.”

Clarke came to an abrupt halt, Monty nearly tripping over her heels. He reached out tentatively and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Clarke--”

“I’m okay,” she barked, wincing. Monty withdrew his hand swiftly and Clarke turned to face him, her face dropping. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly this time. “Maybe we should find some cover.”

The sky rumbled, dark gray clouds began to release a cold mist. Clarke pulled her jacket tighter around her chest, shivering as the damp wind whipped through the woods.

“I don’t know if I’ll get used to that,” Clarke mused, eyes trained on the gathering clouds in the sky.

“It’s been two days, Clarke,” Monty said, exhaustion coloring his voice.

“I’m aware, Monty.”

They stood huddled in a cave opening as rain fell from the sky. The initial fascination had already worn off as it had poured on them for hours while they made their way through the woods.

Monty watched her quietly. “You haven’t slept, you’ve barely eaten or hydrated. Clarke, you’re going to kill yourself if you’re not careful.”

Clarke’s eyes met his briefly, wet and red.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Monty whispered.

Clarke ripped her eyes away, staring straight ahead. “No,” she said numbly.

They were cold and hungry, eating only what nuts and plants Monty could identify as edible. “We can’t just keep wandering around without a plan,” Monty said, sifting through a small handful of nuts.

“I have a plan,” she snapped. Monty stared at her expectantly. “We find Raven and we find Bellamy and the others. That’s what we do.”

The rain was still falling heavily, and Monty continued to watch her, a shudder rolling through her as a chill whipped through the cavern. “Let’s not try to do anything tonight. You need to sleep, to eat.” Clarke sniffled. “Let me get a fire started, and we can gather our energy for whenever this storm passes.”

Clarke swallowed, shoulders deflating. “Okay.”

The rain stopped the following afternoon, and Monty made sure Clarke had slept at least a minimal amount and force fed her some purplish berries that she thought smelled rotten. They continued their hike at a less aggressive pace, Clarke allowing herself to stop when her body was practically screaming for her to rest.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Monty looked at Clarke, who continued to move forward as she spoke.

“What’s your fault?”

Clarke blinked back tears. “Nothing, nevermind.” She wiped her eyes quickly, stepping over a large fallen tree. “I’m tired, we should make camp.”

Monty nodded in agreement, happy that Clarke was no longer pulling the grueling pace of their first few days on Earth. “Good idea,” he answered. “There’s a good place over there.” He pointed at a clearing near the base of large tree.

Clarke sucked in a deep breathe. “Awesome.”

* * *

“Don’t die on me, dumbass.” Raven squeezed Finn’s hand, it was cold and clammy in her grasp.

Finn smiled back weakly, but his energy was draining quickly.

“Hey, no.” Raven panicked. “You stay right here. You stay with me.”

Eyes fluttering, Finn opened his mouth to say something, the words died on his lips. A sob surged through Raven has his body went rigid. The air grew cold around her as she held on to the only family she had left. Sobs continued to rack her body and she eventually fell asleep clinging to him.

Raven dozed in and out, uncomfortably leaning against the table, clutching to Finn’s body. At some point in the night, another teenager tried to come in to handle the body. Raven had hoarsely shouted at her to get out.

A hazy light filled camp, and Raven was awoken by a scuffle outside the tent. Raven jumped up from her spot beside the boy. Bursting out of the tent, she could see the scene unfolding in the courtyard.

_“Octavia, what did you do?”_

“He wasn’t a monster, Bellamy!” Octavia shouted back, feet firmly planted in front of her brother.

Bellamy ran a hand over his face. “That wasn’t your call to make!”

“Yeah? And who made it yours?”

Licking his lips, Bellamy shifted his weight. “Finn is going to die without that antidote!”

Octavia stared him down. “Well, you weren’t going to get the antidote by keeping him locked up in the dropship.”

Raven stepped up to the siblings. “ _Died._ He _died_ without that antidote.”

“Fucking hell, Octavia,” he said, quieter. Eyes flitting back and forth between the two girls.

“I don’t care what kind of person you _think_ you have to be,” Octavia growled. “I’m going to be the kind of person I _know I am.”_

Raven was tired, having stayed by Finn’s side all night, not allowing anyone to come in and see to Finn. “You have to go after him, _we_ have to go after him.”

“Raven, you can’t--”

"If he had killed Clarke, would you stay behind while someone else went to go find him?" Raven countered angrily.

Bellamy’s mouth snapped shut, his heart hammering behind his ribcage, trying to break through. The thought that Clarke might be out there, that Clarke might be killed by one those _Grounders_ before he was able to hold her in his arms again made his chest tighten _._

“Okay,” Bellamy said after a long weighted pause. “You can come with Miller and me. But you do what I tell you. We’ve been on Earth a lot longer than you.”

Raven didn’t acknowledge him, she just turned on her heels and went to gather her things.

Octavia, too, flared her nostrils and stormed away from Bellamy, leaving him stranded in the middle of camp. “What the fuck,” he muttered to himself.

* * *

Another two days of exhausting trekking through the wooded expanse led Monty and Clarke to a small hatch buried under some brush. Monty had been pulling the roots of some medicinal plant he thought would help Clarke, who seemed to be almost back to normal physically, when he found it.

“Hey, help me with this,” Monty called over his shoulder.

Clarke scurried over and wrapped her hands around the rusty metal handle. Together they pulled as hard as they could, stumbling back with the force of the door swinging open. The open hatch revealed a ladder leading down into darkness. Monty stuck his head down warily, but he was unable to see past the bottom of the ladder.

Pulling out the remaining flare from their pack of supplies, Clarke ignited it before throwing it below them. With the light from the flare, they were able to determine that it was a bunker of some sort and they lowered themselves down quickly.

Clarke’s feet hit the floor, sending a layer of dust into the air. Coughing, she looked around at the room. “I wonder how long it’s been since someone was in here.”

“Probably a hundred years,” Monty said, letting out a soft laugh.

Clarke waited at the bottom of the ladder for Monty to follow. As his feet touched down, he brushed his hands on her pants. The light from the flare was fading and Clarke noticed a lantern and matches on a shelf nearby. Grabbing it, she fumbled with a match until she was able to light the lantern, just as the flare fizzled out.

The bunker was musty and cold, but there was a couch, and a small cot in the corner. Several shelves carried survival supplies and Clarke let out a sharp breath. “We could stay here for a few days.”

Monty looked over at her skeptically, but was secretly relieved that she finally wanted to slow down.

“It’s away from the harsh weather, we could spend some time gathering supplies. I saw a small tributary on our way into the clearing,” Clarke continued.

“What about the others?” Monty raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Clarke swallowed. “We’ll find them.”

There was no wavering in her voice, but Monty knew how exhausted she must be. Trauma like that on a body, both physical and emotional can only wear a person down.

“Okay,” Monty agreed. ”We take a few days to reassess. Then we find the others.”

As it turned out, the bunker was fairly untouched. A musty couch, another crank-generated lantern, a few threadbare blankets. Clarke was just happy to sleep on something other than tree roots and concrete slabs.

Additionally, Clarke almost cried when she found a pencil that had rolled under a table. Her hands itched to create, and her heart nearly burst thinking about the last time she was able to: Wrapped in just a sheet, sitting crossed legged on the end of their bed, sketching the taut contours of his back.

_I’ll find you._

* * *

Raven was quiet, refusing to make eye contact with Bellamy. Miller brought up the rear, eyes and ears alert as they combed through the forest.

“He only had a few hours head start,” Bellamy said out loud.

When Raven failed to acknowledge him, Miller quickened his steps and answered, “I’m sure he knows these woods much better than us.”

Bellamy knew this was probably true, but it didn’t assuage his frustrations.

They had been searching the woods for days, and without an expert tracker, their mission was futile.

“I don’t recognize this area,” Miller said, coming to a halt.

Bellamy looked around, searching for a familiar landmark, anything that would tell him he wasn’t completely lost. “How many days have we been hiking?”

Raven watched them silently.

Miller answered, “Two and a half days.”

Running a hand through his hair, Bellamy sighed. “We came East, right?”

“I thought so.” Miller scrunched up his face, trying to sound more convinced than he was.

“Don’t tell me you two dumbasses got us _lost._ What happened to, _we’ve been on Earth longer than you_ , huh?”

The boys both turned to look at Raven, who stood with her arms crossed against her chest. She muttered an _unbelievable_ under her breath and began walking in a new direction.

Bellamy took a step towards Raven’s new route, only to be stopped by something whizzing past his face and lodging itself into the tree to his left. Raven dropped into a ready stance, spinning around and grabbing the pistol from her waistband. Miller’s hand was already on the trigger as the three of them hovered closely together.

A dozen figures appeared from between the trees. Their dark clothes and faces shrouded in masks made them look like they were part of forest. Many of them carried clubs and spears, some had sword-like weapons or axes. The trio was quickly surrounded and herded into the center of the clearing, their backs to each other.

“Bellamy--” Raven hissed.

“Stick together.” Bellamy said, keeping his voice low. He felt his blood pounding in his ears.

The line of Grounders in front of them opened up, and a woman strode into the circle.

Her features were sharp, her face dirty and her clothes worn, but she carried herself in a manner of importance.

Bellamy blinked when she said something in a language he didn’t understand.

The woman repeated herself, before quickly growing frustrated.

“Who are you people?” she commanded evenly.

He waited a beat before answering. “My name is Bellamy, we were sent here from the Ark Station, up in space, by our people to determine whether Earth was livable.”

She was quiet, calculating.

“You destroyed an entire village, killing hundreds of my people.”

Bellamy shook his head. “No, no that wasn’t us. That was an accident--”

“Enough!” Anya pointed her knife towards him, narrowing her brows. The Grounders around them shifted anxiously, waiting for a command.

Bellamy tightened his grip on his gun. “We’re not your enemy,” he said, almost pleading.

Anya gestured towards the kids and the man beside her struck Bellamy in the stomach with a staff. Raven and Miller both reacted, but they, too, were grabbed and hauled backwards. Their attackers tied them forcefully to the tree while Bellamy remained on his knees, struggling for air.

After Miller and Raven were secure, Anya crouched down in front of Bellamy and forced his chin up with the tip of her knife.

“My healer died in that-- what did you call it? _Accident_.”

A horn blew in the distance and her eyes grew wide.

“Anya!” one of the Grounders called to her and she jumped to her feet.

The Grounders around them grew uneasy and Bellamy took their distraction as an opportunity. He reached for his weapon, grabbing the body of the gun, he swung it at Anya, but she was quick to dodge it. She came back and met his blow with her own, sending him into darkness.

* * *

“What was that?”

Clarke looked over at Monty a few feet away. She, too, could hear the horn in the distance.

She stood shin deep in the river, hauling seaweed to the shore. The birds started to retreat from the trees, swooping through the open air away from the East. Clarke and Monty watched the sky as it began to change color, from blue, quickly to grey and into a hazy orange cloud that began to descend upon them.

“Um, I think we should move,” Monty whispered.

Clarke was already stuffing things in her pack. She flung the bag over her shoulder and began to run. “Get to the bunker!”

They ran back into the forest, carefully avoiding large roots and fallen logs. Monty stumbled, and Clarke had to backtrack quickly to help him to his feet, her heart nearly stopping as the fog chased them.

Reaching the bunker, they found the door slightly ajar. In one swift movement, Clarke was hauling open the door and throwing their packs to the bottom of the ladder. She yelled up to Monty as she lowered herself down, “Close the hatch!” It slammed behind him, darkness surrounding them briefly.

Clarke fumbled around until she found one of the emergency lanterns they had found in the bunker.

The light cast shadows on the wall, and revealed they were no longer alone.

“Clarke!”

Clarke felt relief surge through her. “Oh my god, Raven.” Nearly dropping it, she managed to set the lantern down, throwing her arms around her friend. Emotions flooded through her as her tears soaked into Raven’s jacket. “You’re okay.”

Raven saw Monty over Clarke’s shoulder and reached out a hand. “C’mere!”

Clarke let out a watery laugh as Monty wrapped him arms around the both of them.

Miller gave them a few minutes before clearing his throat.

Monty broke away from the girls and turned towards the boy standing there awkwardly. “So, what _was_ that?” he asked. Clarke released her grasp on Raven, but remained close enough that their arms continued to touch.

Licking his lips, Miller cleared his throat once more. “Acid fog.”

“Acid fog?” Clarke gaped.

“Yeah, we had the pleasure of dealing with this a couple of weeks ago. We lost a kid.”

“Oh,” Monty said quietly. “I’m, uh, Monty… by the way.”

Raven sniffled. “Oh, right, sorry. Monty, Clarke… this is Miller.”

“Is that a first or last name?” Monty asked.

Miller flushed. “Last. Nathan Miller, formally.”

“Nathan,” Monty repeated, trying the name on for size.

Raven eyed the two boys questioningly. “Miller, this is Clarke and Monty, obviously.”

“Griffin?” Miller narrowed his brows, studying her.

“The very same,” Raven chirped. “Miller is from the dropship,” she directed back at Clarke.

Miller’s face grew dark.

“The dropship, you know Bellamy? I-- what is it?” Clarke stopped mid-sentence.

Raven glanced over at Miller, grimacing. She licked her lips. “We were attacked.”

Panic flashed in Clarke’s eyes. “Attacked? By what? By who?”

Reaching out, Raven grabbed onto Clarke’s bicep to try and calm her. “It’s a long story.”

Clarke nodded and led them to one of the couches, where they all gathered around allowing Miller and Raven to recount everything that had happened since they had come to Earth. Monty and Raven shared a pained silence after the news that Jasper and Finn had both died. Clarke sat patiently, somber in the wake of her friends’ heartache, but eager for them to get to news of Bellamy.

“When the horn went off, Miller and I were still tied to the tree,” Raven started.

Miller nodded. “Bellamy lunged at her, at Anya, but she was too quick. She struck him and two of her lackies dragged him off. Another one said something we didn’t understand, and she waved them off, like she was telling them to leave us.”

“They were obviously nervous because of the horn, though, right?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah,” Raven answered. “Lucky for us, they hadn’t found the knife I had hidden in my jacket. Nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to get to it.”

“By the time we were free, the Grounders were gone. And so was Bellamy. We just took off. We could see the orange fog heading for us. Knowing what the fog was, we just ran, looking for shelter. That’s when we saw this bunker.”

Raven confirmed this with a hum.

Clarke nodded slowly. “But he’s alive.”

Raven didn’t know what to say. “It don’t think she would have captured him, just to kill him a minute later. But I don’t know. There’s still hope.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Clarke slumped back against the couch and a swirl of dust rose into the air. “So, what do we do now?”

The group was silent.

* * *

The fog cleared by the next morning, and they began the long hike back to camp. After everything that had transpired, they decided it would be best if they abandoned their quest to find Lincoln.

Miller led the group back through the woods, Monty at his side, looking over his shoulder every thirty seconds to see how Clarke was doing.

Not watching where he was going, Monty stumbled on a root and Miller’s hand shot out to steady him. Monty blushed and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Thanks, Miller.”

“You can call me Nate,” he replied. Monty ducked his head and Miller flushed. “If you want to.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“He was your friend, wasn’t he?” Miller said hesitantly.

Monty looked at him. “Who? Jasper?”

Miller nodded.

Shaking his head, Monty cleared his throat. “He was like family. He wasn’t my actual brother, but he was there in every memory I have-- you know?”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“In a way, I did.”

Quirking an eyebrow in response, Miller encouraged him to continue.

“Jasper was Unviable. When I got pardoned, I knew what they were doing. They started doing those tests six months ago, to see if we were Viable.” Monty paused, stooping down to pick up a plant on the side of their path. “I said goodbye to him my last day in the Skybox because I didn’t know if I’d get to see him again. Visitation was limited in the last couple of weeks, I wasn’t even able to get in to see him once in the last two months.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to to grieve.”

Monty scratched his eyebrow. “Yeah.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, Monty twirling the plant between his fingers.

“Did you know this plant has regenerative powers?”

Miller ducked his head, smiling.

* * *

Raven and Clarke hung back behind the boys, their boots pressing into the soft earth.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Raven said softly.

It was true, they had been hiking the whole day and she hadn’t spoken but a few words.

Clarke turned to her quickly. “I’m sorry about Finn, you know.”

“I know,” Raven replied, frowning. Studying her for a moment, Raven watched Clarke blink her eyes manically. “Hey.” She grabbed Clarke’s arm and stopped her.

Clarke looked at Raven fully this time. Eyes red and watery.

“I’m fine. Objectively, I know I should be fine,” Clarke said, voice crumbling.

“What’s fine, Clarke?”

Her lip trembled. “It’s fine, it was my fault, right? My mom said it was dangerous, that I shouldn’t come--”

“Clarke, what is your fault?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I-I lost the baby.”

“Oh, Clarke.” Raven gathered Clarke in her arms. She rocked the crying girl for a few minutes, stroking her hair. Eventually, Clarke pulled away, sniffling.

“You’re sure?” Raven asked.

Clarke nodded, hiccuping. Raven hugged her again. Earth was a cold, dead place.

“You guys okay?”

They look up to see Monty and Miller walking towards them, having noticed they stopped.

Clarke wiped her face, nodding brusquely. She charged forward, taking the lead. Miller laughed quietly, taking large steps to catch up with her. “You don’t know where we’re going,” he said once at her side.

Clarke choked out a laugh. “Right.”

They walk quietly beside one another, Miller guiding them through the woods.

“He talks about you.” Miller says breaking the silence.

“Hm?” Clarke cocked her head.

“Bellamy-- he talks about you. He cares about you.”

Clarke swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say in response.

“I know some shit went down, or whatever,” Miller continued. “But he thought you were dead, and I don’t know if I’d ever seen anyone look that broken.” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “So, you know.”

“We’re going to find him,” Clarke said assuredly.

* * *

They arrived back at camp late into the second day of hiking back from the bunker. The kids flocked to the group marching through the gates. Many of them were yelling and Miller barked, “Back it up!”

Miller went about giving orders to some of the younger kids to get a tent set up for Monty, who stood anxiously beside Raven, and directed Clarke towards Bellamy’s tent. Behind the crowd of delinquents, Octavia came into view and Clarke, halted, feeling her heart stop.

“Octavia!” she yelled, breaking into a run.

Octavia stopped in her tracks, jaw dropped. “Clarke,” she breathed.

They meet in an embrace and Octavia choked out a laugh. “You’re alive.” A moment later, she looked over Clarke’s shoulder. “Where’s Bellamy?”

Clarke pulled back, frowning. “He was captured by Grounders.”

“No,” Octavia seethed as she stormed past Clarke to find Miller at the armory. “What happened?”

Miller sighed, nodded at the guard posted at the armory door and grabbed Octavia’s wrist, dragging her away from prying eyes. “We were ambushed. The Grounders came out of nowhere and took Bellamy.”

“And when do you plan on going after him?” Octavia snapped.

“We’ve been back for two minutes, Octavia,” Miller said exasperated.

“Well, you came back _without_ my brother! How the hell could you just leave him out there?!”

Miller stepped into her space, arms crossed, face stony. “It’s not that damn simple, Octavia! Raven and I are lucky to have made it back at all!”

The two stood toe-to-toe until Octavia snarled, turning on her heels. Clarke followed her, throwing an apologetic look at Miller over her shoulder.

She waited until they were in Octavia’s tent before she tried to speak. “Octavia--”

“I let the Grounder go,” Octavia blurted out before Clarke could continue.

Clarke stepped backwards. “You what?”

“The Grounder Bellamy and the other guys had locked up for stabbing Finn,” Octavia clarified.

“O-kay,” Clarke said, struggling to understand.

“He didn’t stab Finn. He was there, but he didn’t kill him, it wasn’t his fault. They were torturing him Clarke, keeping him locked up like he was some kind of monster. He isn’t.”

The younger Blake was getting worked up and Clarke reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Octavia, it’s okay.”

“He was going to get the antidote, _he was_ . I just-- I was too late.” Octavia’s face fell. “He’s not the monster you think he is, I _know_ he would help.”

Clarke thought for a moment. “Then we find him, right? We find Lincoln, and we figure out how to get to Bellamy.”

Octavia’s lips pulled into a smile. “Yeah, we find him.”

* * *

Bellamy came to, head pounding, wrists restrained between two posts. The room was dark and smelled of earth and firewood. A small fire crackled in the corner, illuminating shadows along the dirt floors and walls. His vision slowly came into focus and he saw a familiar face; dark eyes and sharp features.

Anya sat in a chair across the room from him. Her face was cleared of the dirt and black paint that had been painted across her eyes before. She sighed, almost annoyed. “Well, look who decided to join us.”

Bellamy licked his lips, cringing at the bitter metallic taste of blood.

She leaned forward, twirling a knife in her hands and she rested her elbows on her knees. “I’m trying to decide what to do with you.”

The two studied each other for a moment until Anya rose to her feet. “Lincoln!”

A moment later, another Grounder appeared in the doorway. The bright light from the outside poured in where the door-flap was displaced, causing Bellamy to look away.

“Stay with him until I decide whether he’s going to useful, or I need to kill him.”

The large man nodded and Anya left the room without a second glance.

Bellamy pulled his head back up. “You,” Bellamy spat.

Lincoln remained passive. “Be careful, Bellamy.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t have much time. Your sister let me go because I told her I could get the antidote-- but we were too late, that boy was dead before I got the chance.”

“That boy?” Bellamy growled. “You mean the boy _you_ killed.”

Lincoln’s face darkened. “I didn’t stab the boy. I was a part of that raid, but I was not the one who stabbed him. You have my word.”

Bellamy pulled on the restraints. “And what good is your word?”

“Your sister trusts me.”

“My sister lived under the floorboards for sixteen years, I don’t know how good her peer judgment is,” Bellamy said dryly.

Lincoln frowned.

Bellamy gritted his teeth. “Fine, O trusts you, and I trust _her._ ”

“That will have to do,” Lincoln sighed. “I can’t just break you out, it’s not that easy.”

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy shifted against his restraints. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Give me a little more time and I’ll try to keep you alive long enough to get out of here. Deal?”

Bellamy had no other choice, really, but he trusted his sister. If Lincoln said he could get him out, he had to believe him. “Deal.”

* * *

Clarke and Octavia met with Monty, Miller and Raven in the armory later that evening to explain their plan. The two girls had spent the last couple of hours preparing food and supplies, so they could leave at first light.

“Are you crazy?” Miller asked. “I know you think you’re a damn samurai, Octavia, but you can’t be serious about this plan.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at him. “You’re starting to sound like Bell, Miller. And we’ll be fine! I know the woods, I can take care of myself, and Clarke is strong too.”

“You’re not going out there on your own!” Raven said firmly.

Clarke looked at her knowingly. “We’ll move quicker and quieter if there are only two of us.”

Octavia nodded. “And he’s _my_ brother.”

“And Clarke’s husband,” Monty spoke up suddenly, his face thoughtful.

“Right,” Clarke said. “My husband.”

Miller did not look happy, but Monty came up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Clarke is capable.”

“You’re taking guns,” Miller said after a long tense pause, his mouth drawn in a firm line.

Clarke broke into a grin. Octavia hugged Miller, who stood there begrudgingly taking it while Monty sniggered beside him.

“When are you leaving?” Miller sighed.

“First light,” Octavia answered.

Miller nodded. “I’ll alert the guards, and tell them to keep an eye out for you coming home.”

Clarke smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, Miller.”

“Yeah, just bring him home, okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

They left as the sun began to creep into the sky, the forest still cool and gray. Octavia led them in the direction that she had seen Lincoln retreat when she had let him go. A few hours passed and the weather grew warmer with sun rising higher in the sky, Clarke shed her jacket as they walked.

“How do we know where to find him?” Clarke asked as she finished tying her jacket around her waist.

“I’m tracking him,” Octavia answered simply, stooping low to examine prints in the mud.

Clarke looked surprised. “You can do that?”

“Yes, to an extent.” Octavia stopped for a second, looking around her. Squinting at a trampled section of brush, she rose back up to face Clarke. “Lincoln also told me about a place I could reconnect with him, if I needed to-- so that’s where we’re heading.”

Clarke hummed an unconvincing response, the unease clear on her face.

Octavia clicked her tongue. “This is our best option, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded slowly, gripping the straps on her pack anxiously. “Sorry, I just want to find Bellamy.”

“I know.” Octavia sighed. “So do I.”

As they walked in silence, Clarke’s stomach turned over with anxiety.

“This is it,” Octavia said suddenly. They had arrived at a small clearing with a large oak tree encircled by moss. Octavia dropped her pack at their feet and glanced around. Clarke slowly slipped the straps of her own bag from her shoulders.

“So, what do we do now?” Clarke asked.

Octavia sat down at the base of a tree. “We wait.”

Clarke joined her, leaning back against the bark, trying to get comfortable.

The forest around them grew dark as the day dwindled.

“Why didn’t you say we were going to meet Lincoln?” Clarke said finally, hands idly drawing shapes in the dirt.

Octavia looked up. She licked her lips before offering, “You saw Raven, if she knew I was going to find Lincoln, there is no way she would have let us leave that camp without her.”

Clarke nodded.

“I know you don’t have much to go on here, Clarke,” Octavia continued. “But I hope that you’ll trust me.”

“I do trust you, Octavia,” Clarke said quietly. “But don’t you think we’re wasting time waiting around for this Grounder?”

“His name is Lincoln,” Octavia corrected her.

“Right, Lincoln,” Clarke said, shaking her head slightly. “But Bellamy is out there somewhere, and we need to find him.”

“And Lincoln is our best bet at finding him.”

Clarke let out a short puff of air. “Okay,” she said with resignation. “We wait for Lincoln.”

They let a comfortable silence fall between them after that, trying to settle in for the night. Octavia managed to fall asleep sitting with her back against a large rock. Laying down on the blanket she pulled from her pack, Clarke stared up through trees, watching what small sliver of the sky could could see.

She saw a light growing brighter, like it was moving towards them. Clarke sat up, trying to make out what it was. The light grew bigger, quicker, when she realized what it was.

“Octavia,” she said, reaching over to shake her awake. “Octavia, wake up.”

Octavia groaned and rolled up, pushing herself up on her elbow. “What?”

“Look.” Clarke pointed up.

Squinting through the canopy of trees, Octavia frowned. “What is it?”

Clarke’s heart hammered against her chest, whatever it was had begun to break apart, hurdling towards the ground. “I think it’s the Ark.”

* * *

Raven stood in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky.

One of the younger delinquents appeared at her side. “What is it?”

“I--” Raven stammered. “I think it’s the Ark.”

“How is that possible?”

Raven shook her head slightly. “I don’t think they had a choice.”

The gray early morning sky began to brighten unexpectedly and most of the camp had made their way into the courtyard. The ship, now visible, began to break into sections as it came into Earth’s atmosphere.

Raven watched the trajectory of a large chunk of the Ark as it fell. “Did you see that?” Raven said to no one in particular. The girl beside her narrowed her eyes at the sky, trying to see what Raven saw.

“Oh.” Raven snapped her eyes from the sky, looking around. She spotted Monty a few meters away. “Monty!” she called out, trying to catch his attention.

He heard her, and she pointed in the direction she saw the ship go down. “A piece of the ship went down, can’t be more than ten miles from here!”

He tipped his chin away from the group and they converged on the outskirts of camp.

“We have to get to that crash site, what if there are survivors?” Raven said excitedly.

“Get your pack, I’ll tell Nate. Grab whoever will come,” Monty replied quickly.

Raven nodded and took off across the camp. Monty searched the crowd for Miller and found him quickly. He edged his way around the spectators until he reached the boy. Placing a hand at the small of his back, Monty leaned close so he could make sure he was heard. “Raven and I are going to go to the crash site that landed ten miles north. You in?”

Miller looked around. “I-I have to make sure these kids stay safe.”

Monty nodded, he understood.

“Take a gun, please,” Miller urged. “Tell Raven to do the same.”

Monty moved but Miller grabbed his wrist. “And Monty?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful, okay?”

Monty smiled and squeezed Miller’s hand. “I will.”

Monty took off, just missing the red that prickled at Miller’s ears.

* * *

“Oh my god,” Clarke breathed.

“The Ark,” Octavia said, blinking, “is on the ground.”

 _“My mom,”_ were the only words that Clarke could stammer out.

A shadow overtook the camp as something stepped in front of their dying fire. The two girls scrambled to their feet, reaching for their weapons.

“Octavia,” a deep voice declared.

Clarke saw Octavia relax out of the corner of her eye. “Lincoln,” she said. “You scared us.”

He took a step forward, making it easy to see his face. “That was your ship?”

Octavia nodded.

“A section of it crashed into another village.”

Clarke felt her stomach churn.

“Our leader, Anya, will not be happy. Your brother’s life is in danger.”

Octavia’s pulse quickened. “Then we have to get to him. Now.”

“He’s being held not too far, we’ll have to move quick.”

Clarke was already packing up their stuff. “What are we waiting for?”

* * *

One of the younger girls in camp had a map handy and Raven was able to calculate the trajectory and pinpoint a location estimate. She led Monty, along with Sterling, Connor, and Fox through the woods.

It took them a few hours, but as the sun reached the middle of the sky, Raven inhaled the smell of fuel and fire.

“We’re close,” she told the group.

She was right. They broke through the forest into a clearing that was now a large crash site. Huge chunks of metal still in flames smoked as the five of them walked carefully through the wreckage.

Raven pulled Fox away from a particularly fiery scrap. “Be careful,” she said. “A lot of fuel was spilled when the ship split. We don’t know what’s stable and what’s not.”

Fox nodded, tightening her grip on the small knife at her side.

Spreading out, the party searched thoroughly, digging through parts of the charred wreckage after getting a go-ahead from Monty or Raven. The area they’d been searching had so far been devoid of any survivors, and thankfully, any bodies.

Raven veered off towards a large pile of twisted metal. As she approached it, she heard a muffled voice from somewhere within the wreckage.

“Oh my god.” Nearly dropping her gun, she ran towards the voice, scanning the remains for any signs of life. Carefully she began to pull off any pieces she could, some of them were still hot enough to burn. As she lifted yet another piece away a hand broke through, its dark skin covered in soot and grime. “Hold on! I’m gonna get you outta there!” Raven called as she began pulling away pieces of debris even faster until a man was revealed beneath it all. Grabbing both his hands, she hauled him to his feet, pulling him to safety away from the wreck he’d been in.

He bent over coughing from the smoke in his lungs. As he rose back up, he sputtered out a _“Thank you.”_ It took a moment, but she dragged her eyes up his broad form. He was well over six feet tall, and when she reached his face it registered who this man was.

Raven cocked her head at him. “I thought you were supposed to be dead.”

* * *

Lincoln brought them to the edge of his village, and told them they would have to wait for his go-ahead. Clarke and Octavia waited in the shadows of the forest treeline, but they could hear the people just inside the walls on high alert.

There was yelling and Octavia glanced at Clarke, who remained steeled for what was to come.

It was nearly an hour before Lincoln returned, his expression nearly unreadable.

“What’s going on?” Octavia questioned.

“Anya’s second was badly injured in the explosion.”

Clarke searched his face. “What does that mean for us? What’s going to happened?”

Lincoln swallowed. “She is angry. I believe that if she loses Tris, her second, then there will be no stopping her coming after your people, and making an example of Bellamy.”

Her stomach lurched. “What if I could help? What if I could save her second?” Clarke asked.

“Are you a healer?” Lincoln raised an eyebrow at her.

“I-I’m an apprentice, I haven’t finished my training,” Clarke said. “But I can try. If you get me an audience, I can try. _I have to try._ ”

Octavia stepped forward. “Your leader, Anya-- do you think she would spare Bellamy if we helped her?”

“I cannot promise anything,” Lincoln said warily.

Octavia looked at Clarke before turning back to Lincoln. “Well, do you have any other ideas of how to save my brother?”

Lincoln frowned. “No, I don’t.”

“Then I don’t see what choice we have.” Octavia straightened her stance. “Get Clarke an audience, and let’s get my brother back.”

* * *

Clarke balled her fists at her side to keep them from trembling as Lincoln led them through the village. Dozens of people stood in their entranceways, staring at them as they passed. Lincoln took a sharp left and led them to a small hut.

Octavia and Clarke stayed outside as Lincoln entered on his own. Several long minutes later, a woman they did not recognize beckoned them inside.

As they stepped across the threshold, a woman with sharp features and a black cloth tied around her head stepped in front of them.

“Are you the healer?” Anya dragged her eyes over Clarke, an unimpressed look on her face.

“Are you the one who has my husband locked up?” Clarke snapped back.

Anya sneered. “Can you save Tris?” Her eyes flitted towards the girl on a table, breathing shallowly. Clarke side-stepped Anya to reach the table, ignoring the hovering woman. Clarke slid the girls shirt up slightly, revealing a darkened bruise.

“It looks like trauma, her lung is probably collapsed,” Clarke explained.

“Can. You. Save. Her?” Anya spat.

Clarke whirled around, getting in Anya’s face. “Yes, I can save her. But, that girl is going to die unless I do something in the next ten minutes. So if I do this, I need your word that you will release Bellamy, unharmed.”

Anya blinked, her face unreadable.

“And then you let us walk away, all of us. We are not here to war with your people. We want to survive, same as you.”

Another silent beat passed.

“You have my word,” Anya said, finally. “You save Tris, and Bellamy is yours.”

“Good.” Clarke spun back towards Tris and started barking orders at the other two Grounders surrounding the table.

* * *

Clarke emerged from the tent a few hours later, exhausted and sweaty. Someone had fetched her a pail of water, leaving it sitting by the tent with a towel. Dipping the towel into the water, she brought it to her neck, wiping off the dirt and grime that had been gathering there for days.

“Clarke,” a voice from behind startled her. She dropped the towel into the bucket as Anya approached her. “Thank you.” Her voice was softer than before, lacking the harsh, biting tone. Clarke was able to look at her face fully this time, and she saw that Anya looked tired.

Clarke nodded back in response, exhausted to the point of being emotionless.

“You had my word,” Anya said as she nodded in the direction that Clarke had her back to. Slowly turning around, Clarke held her breath. Some distance down the road, she saw him.

* * *

Bellamy was rubbing at his wrists where the restraints left raw patches of skin. He heard the sound of boots on soft earth and he looked up just in time to see a fury of blonde curls hurtling into him. Before he could register what was happening, there were arms around his neck and he caught a familiar scent. A lump formed in his throat and a wave of emotion bubbled up in his chest.

"Oh my god, Clarke." He let out a shaky breath and his arms were around her, lifting her up on her toes. "Clarke, Clarke, Clarke," he said, whispering her name as though she were a dream and he didn't want to wake up.

Clarke nestled her face into the crook of his neck and pressed her lips to the exposed skin, wet eyelashes brushing against the exposed skin of his shoulder. Her salty tears stung against his open wounds, and he knew she was there. He knew that she was real, she was _alive._

Bellamy returned the kisses. He kissed her hair, her cheeks, her eyelids. He kissed any and everywhere he could get to, so sure she might disappear before he got the chance to.

After a moment Clarke dropped back on her heels, arms still around him and they swayed where they stood. Bellamy pulled back and brought his hands up to cradle her face and for the first time Clarke saw that _he_ was crying, eyes bright and cheeks wet.

"Hey, hey," she whispered, brushing away a tear with her thumb. "I'm here, it's okay."

Bellamy let out strangled laugh, he didn't know if he'd ever felt like this before. Relief, joy, _guilt._ It was all so overwhelming. "Clarke, I'm so sorry--"

“No." She hushed him, shaking her head and she brought her lips to his, sighing at the warmth and energy that surged back into her at the taste of him. It was wet and messy as they tried to remember what this was like.

* * *

Abby Griffin pushed up on the hatch, eyes straining against the light. Around here, Alpha Station laid mostly intact as people began to pour out from whatever exit they could find.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. The Earth was rich in color, and a slight breeze whipped her hair into her face. A wave of emotion rolled through her at the sight of the ground, something she’d never thought she would see.

Councilmember Marcus Kane followed up behind her. “We made it,” he said, awestruck.

“Yes, we did.”

In the hours that followed, the remaining survivors of the Alpha Station crash site came together. They had no way of knowing how many pieces of the Ark broke apart, and where they landed. All they knew was that they had to find a way to survive now.

Abby worked to patch up survivors with injuries as guard members set a gated perimeter and handed out supplies.

Hours later the camp had fallen silent, families asleep in their makeshift tents and shelters. Abby had passed out in the medical tent, worn out from the day. She was awoken the next morning by a commotion at the perimeter, guards shouting.

She hurried to the gate, breaking into a run when she saw who stood behind it.

“Let them in!” Abby cried.

The gate screeched open, revealing a haggard group of teenagers. Sterling and Connor carried a makeshift stretcher between them, Raven and Monty leading the group as Fox trailed behind. Abby’s eyes widen and she barked at several guards to take over the lone survivor and bring him to medical, stat.

“Raven! Where’s Clarke?” Abby looked over her shoulder expectantly.

Raven licked her lips. “She went on a rescue mission with Octavia, to save Bellamy.”

“Bellamy is alive?” Abby questioned.

“That’s what we’re hoping. Clarke will return to the dropship.”

Monty interjected, “But these woods aren’t safe, and we’ve still got kids there.”

A guard stepped forward. “I will go. My son was on the dropship. His name is Nathan. Nathan Miller.” Monty met Mister Miller’s eyes briefly, his face flushing.

Abby turned to the guardsman, nodding. “Okay, okay, hang on. David, form a small company. Raven, can you lead Chief Miller back to the dropship?”

“I’m going too,” Monty insisted.

“Of course,” Abby assured him.

_“Dr. Griffin!”_

Abby glanced over her shoulder to see Dr. Jackson calling to her, she quickly waved to him before turning back to the kids. “Be safe.”

Raven and Monty both nodded their heads before joining the party of guards at the gate.

* * *

Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, and Lincoln arrived back at the dropship after dark. They were immediately rushed by the teenagers, everyone trying to talk to Bellamy or Clarke or “the Gounder” with them. Miller shoved his way through the crowd and pulled Bellamy into a quick hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Miller said, quickly clearing his throat.

Bellamy nodded. “You too.”

Clarke looked around the camp, searching for Raven. “Where’s Monty and Raven?”

As if on cue, someone at the gate shouted. “It’s the Ark!”

There was yelling and running as the kids on the wall opened the gate, allowing a small party of guards to enter the camp-- Raven at its helm.

“Raven!” Clarke rushed the girl, pulling her into a hug. Monty smiled when Clarke reached for him as well.

_“Nate!”_

Chief Miller surged forward as his son emerged from the crowd, and Miller dropped his gun at his side as his father enveloped him in an embrace. The men clutched each other as the Chief whispered, “My son.”

After reunions subsided, arrangements were made for the kids to come back to the Alpha Station camp.

“Your mom would kill me if I didn’t bring you back with me,” Raven said to Clarke, laughing.

“She’s okay?” Clarke asked.

Raven smiled softly. “She’s okay.”

“Then, we’d better go.”

Lincoln, who had been hanging back from the group since they had arrived, finally spoke. “I should get back to my people.”

Octavia’s face fell. “I couldn’t ask you to stay,” she said. “But thank you. For everything.”

He nodded, and leaned down to press a swift kiss to her cheek. “May we meet again, Octavia of the Sky People.”

Octavia watched as he disappeared into the woods. She turned back to the group after a minute and Bellamy caught her eye. “You okay?”

She nodded.

“You were right, O. I’m sorry.”

Octavia let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, that’s not the first time you’ve been wrong.”

“We should get going,” Clarke said, appearing at Bellamy’s side.

They gathered their things quickly, and headed to meet their people.

* * *

“Clarke!” Abby rushed forward and gathered her daughter in her arms. “You’re okay.”

Bellamy remained close, hovering just behind her at the mother and daughter embraced. As they broke apart, Bellamy nodded politely at Abby. “Dr. Griffin,” Bellamy offered.

“You can call me Abby,” she replied.

Bellamy smiled.

The remainder of the delinquents had trickled into camp, some of them reuniting with family, some of them huddling close together. The courtyard was busy with people offering help and space for the children that were alone.

Clarke turned back to her mother. "Is there some sort of system for the sleeping arrangements?" Clarke asked. Bellamy had handled the hike back from Lincoln’s village and then from the dropship valiantly, but she knew his body must be screaming for him to rest.

Abby nodded. "There is a station set up on the other side of the courtyard with tents and supplies. They are dividing them up by families. They should be able to set you up with whatever you need.”

“Good,” Clarke said, worrying her lip slightly. She turned to her husband standing closely behind her. “Bellamy can I talk to my mother alone for a moment?”

Bellamy studied her for a moment, uneasy to leave her again, but Clarke smiled softly, letting him know she was okay. He ducked down and pressed a kiss to her temple before giving the two their privacy.

Turning to her mother, her face fell.

“What is it?” Abby panicked, reaching for her daughter.

Clarke’s lip quivered. “I, uh, I lost the baby.”

“Oh, Clarke.” Abby wrapped her arms around the girl, who was doing everything in her power to stay strong. She kissed her daughter’s hair. “Have you told Bellamy?”

Clarke’s gaze dropped, shaking her head.

“I love you.” Abby kissed her. “He loves you and he will _still_ love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” Clarke gave her mother’s hand a squeeze before taking a deep breath and heading back to Bellamy. Bellamy was waiting for her and his hand settled on the small of her back as they made their way to the supply tent.

* * *

Clarke rummaged through the pack her mother had given them as Bellamy finished setting up the pallet and securing the tent. Her fingers shook against the clasp as she struggled to close the bag properly.

Bellamy noticed and grabbed her wrist. "Hey," he said gently.

Clarke turned as Bellamy pulled her into the space between his legs as he sat on the edge of the pallet. His hands settled low on her waist as she placed her arms around his neck. He tilted his head up and Clarke leaned down to press her forehead to his.

"Talk to me."

"I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again,” she whispered hoarsely.

Bellamy sighed, his thumbs rubbing idly into the skin just above her waistband. "When I thought you had died in the Exodus crash, everything inside of me broke. I just thought about all the things I wasn't going to have with you. Our life, _a family._ "

Clarke nodded painfully as Bellamy buried his head in her chest and her fingers carded in his hair as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head.

They stayed like that, just holding each other, until Clarke felt her resolve crumble. Quiet sobs came in waves and she felt her knees buckle. Bellamy reacted quickly and guided her onto the bed beside him.

“Clarke, it’s okay.” He kissed her hair.

“Bellamy,” she croaked. “I--”

Bellamy pulled her into his side. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He rocked her slowly.

A few moments later, Clarke collected herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Bellamy.” She grabbed his hand, turning his palm upward and running her fingers across the callouses. “After you got to Earth. I-I found out I was pregnant.”

His jaw dropped open as he drew his gaze to her stomach. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Clarke swallowed thickly. “I lost it.” Her voice hitched. “When I came down on the pod with Raven and Monty. We just-- the landing-- and I--”

Bellamy pulled her into him, and they both cried. The tent grew dark around them as they held each other, the world around them ceasing to matter in that moment.

* * *

Clarke awoke first the next morning, detangling herself from Bellamy's long limbs. She ducked out of the tent to find the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of water from the supply tent on her way back. Upon her return, she found Bellamy perched on the side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes. She froze where she stood and tried to take a mental picture of the scene in front of her: her husband, deliciously disheveled hair, sleepy smile plastered on his face. She didn't want to forget this moment.

There was a gunshot and Clarke startled, Bellamy jumped to his feet and stormed out of the tent, Clarke hot on his heels. In the middle of the courtyard a gaunt looking man waved a gun around.

“-- _according to you!_ While the rest of us live on crumbs!”

Kane stood a few feet away from the man, arms out in defense and otherwise unarmed.

Bellamy and Clarke approached apprehensively, and the man swung around and saw them.

“We were going to have a new regime. We wanted to expose the dirty secrets,” he drawled. “Hidden siblings.” Bellamy tensed. “Privileged matches. What?” Clarke was frowning at him. “Poor boy who has a sister hidden away gets matched to a princess, so he can lie to her and feed his sister on her ration allowance? And then rest of us, the undesirable, the _Unviable_ \-- we get left to waste away in the cold corners of the Ark.”

It was Abby’s turn.

“Hey!” she barked. “It doesn’t have to be this way, we’re on the ground now.”

The man shrugged sardonically.

“We have a chance for a new life down here. No more rations, no more controlled population. No more Viable versus Unviable.” Abby took a step towards the man, who staggered backwards. “You get to make your own future.”

Clarke watched in horror, as the man struggled. More people had started to stir, peering out from their tents.

“We need you to put down your gun,” Marcus ordered.

“The Coalition was going to bring order,” he cried.

Marcus shook his head. “They didn’t have to do it this way. Assassinating the Chancellor’s son, bugging people, stealing the Exodus ship and killing hundreds, putting the rest of the population at risk. Is that who you want to create _your order?_ Does any of that sound like order to you?”

The man’s face twisted and the gun fell limply at his side. Guards rushed him and disarmed him quickly. In a flash, it was over.

After they took the man away, Marcus and Abby gathered the rest of the camp in the courtyard. “The Coalition wanted to create a new _order_ ,” Marcus spoke out. “But their way meant chaos. It was _disorder._ We’re on the ground now. That means, we have the chance to make things right. We have the chance to fix what the Ark did wrong. And I promise, we intend to do that.”

* * *

Bellamy managed to find a large basin and lugged it back to their tent. He spent the entire morning heating water over the fire out front and dumping it into the basin.

When Clarke returned from a check-up with her mom, she stopped in her tracks.

“What are you doing?”

Bellamy froze, small bucket still in hand.

“I was going to surprise you,” he said sheepishly.

“Well, color me surprised,” Clarke laughed.

Bellamy turned pink. “It’s a bath.”

Clarke melted on the spot.

“I just thought it would be nice.” He shrugged.

Dropping her pack, Clarke marched over to Bellamy and flung her arms around him. “Thank you.” She pulled away slightly, looking at the water. “Is it ready?”

Bellamy chewed on his bottom lip. “Mhm.”

Clarke grinned and began shedding her coat and kicking off her boots. Bellamy watched her, glued to his spot beside the tub. Her hands went to her pants, carefully unbuttoning them and pulling down over her hips.

Looking down, Clarke flushed because her clothes were stained dark and were covered in dirt and grime.

Bellamy stepped close, lifting her chin with two fingers. “We’ll get you clean clothes.”

Clarke nodded and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pushing them off his shoulders. Bellamy jumped to action, quickly pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to the side. He surged forward and kissed Clarke fully, cupping her jaw. Clarke’s fingers dug into the flesh at his hips, whining as Bellamy swiped his tongue along the seam of her lips.

Suddenly, Clarke laughed when she realized they were making out in the middle of their tent and she was just wearing a t-shirt, underwear and socks. Bellamy groaned playfully as he pulled his mouth from hers. He dropped his hands to the hem of her shirt and Clarke lifted her arms over her head, allowing Bellamy to drag it up and off.

His eyes roamed her body, eyes dark as they dropped to her breasts. Fixated as he was, Clarke just laughed and reached behind her, unfastening her bra and letting it drop between them. Bellamy reached up and cupped each one, testing their weight, and Clarke closed her eyes, letting her head drop back.

Hands remaining on her breasts, kneading slowly and gently, Bellamy attached his lips to her throat. Clarke’s hands flew to his pants, fumbling with the belt blindly. In a flurry of movements, Bellamy withdrew his hands, Clarke whimpering in protest, to shuck his remaining articles of clothing. Clarke took the opportunity to peel off her socks and shimmy out of her panties.

They stood in front of each other completely bare, Clarke’s cheeks thoroughly flushed and Bellamy hard and erect. She reached out, wrapping her fingers lightly around the base of his cock and stroking upwards. Bellamy bit down on his lip and groaned. “The water is going to get cold.”

With her hand still stroking him, Clarke tipped her head up and captured Bellamy’s lips for a dirty kiss.

They eventually made it into the tub.

It was small, and Clarke had to sit between Bellamy’s thighs, leaning back against his chest. The water had cooled to a comfortable temperature and they spent a few minutes scrubbing the dirt from each other the best they could.

Clarke dropped her head back against Bellamy’s shoulder. He rested one hand on her stomach, interlocking the other with hers on the edge of the basin. Clarke carefully placed her free hand over his on her stomach and pushed it lower, submerging it in the water.

Bellamy’s fingers brushed through her curls, driving farther into her folds. Clarke removed her hand, letting Bellamy work her up on his own. She tugged on their interlocked hands, pulling them in to cup her breast. Kneading it herself, Bellamy’s hand squeezed over top of hers, just as he brushed against her clit below the water. Clarke whimpered, arching slightly against his strokes.

She reached back and hooked her hand around the nape of his neck, tugging gently on the hair there as Bellamy slipped a finger inside of her, thumb circling her clit in a slow, agonizing pace. They worked her breasts together and Clarke began to roll her hips, fucking herself against his fingers.

Dropping her head back, Clarke gave Bellamy access to her neck where he began to suck on her skin in a bruising manner.

Her movements became sloppier as she approached her peak, Bellamy unrelentingly rubbing at her clit. Bellamy whispered in her ear, urging her forward towards the edge.

Her climax washed over her, every inch of her shuddering in pleasure. Bellamy’s fingers kept moving to help walk her down slowly. Clarke slumped back against him, chest heaving.

“Water’s cold now,” Bellamy whispered in her ear.

“Probably for the best,” Clarke said breathily and Bellamy let out a husky snigger.

Bellamy nipped at her earlobe and Clarke whined. “Maybe we should move this to the bed.”

They hurried out of the basin. Clarke first, the cool air pebbling her skin and causing the dusty pink peaks of her nipples to harden. Barely drying themselves, Clarke pushed Bellamy down onto the pallet and clambered on top, straddling his thighs.

She planted her hands on his chest, easing him back against the bed. Clarke leaned over him, rolling her body slowly so that they met chest to chest and pressed their lips together. Bellamy's hands moved to the curve of her ass, urging her forward. Their mouths moved together lazily, hot and open mouthed, Bellamy slid his tongue against hers. Bellamy bit down and tugged on her bottom lip and Clarke moaned and shifted her hips downward, feeling his arousal pressed against her backside.

Breaking away, Clarke moved her lips along his jaw, peppering kisses down his throat and chest. She pushed herself up slightly, shifting so his erection brushed at her entrance. Bellamy’s hand traveled from it’s place on her hips to palm at her breast, Clarke arching into his touch.

 _"God,"_ she breathed, "I've needed this, _you,_ for so long, Bellamy." Her hips started to move slowly, teasing over his erection.

 _“Fuck,”_ Bellamy moaned. “I need you right now.”

Clarke lowered herself onto him and pressed her hands against his chest as she adjusted to him, her mouth forming a small _o_ when he finally buried himself within her.

She moved her hips, lifting as he slid almost completely out before she dropped back against him and they began to find a rhythm, arms braced by his head. Their movements were needy, desperate and Bellamy was breathing her name, _"Clarke, Clarke, Clarke."_

"Oh god, Bell- _ah_ -amy," she moaned into the crook of his neck, and his cheek was pressed into her hair, tangled and wet and she could feel him panting hot and heavy in her ear. "I'm-so... close," she stuttered, feeling herself fluttering around him with each thrust.

Clarke arched back and reached between them to brush over her clit and her whole body shivered with pleasure and she rode through the wave, Bellamy following just seconds later, hot and pulsing, and she collapsed against his chest.

Neither one of them made any effort to move, and Clarke felt him soften inside her and with a few small adjustments he had removed himself, but they remained pressed together. Placing a delicate kiss to her hairline, Bellamy brushed a curl from her face as she twisted her gaze so that she could see him.

She was smiling, body relaxed and Bellamy felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

"I love you, too," Clarke sighed.

Bellamy quirked his eyebrow.

"Back on the Ark," she clarified, "after Octavia-- you said you trusted me, _loved me._ I never got a chance to say it back.”

Bellamy wrapped an arm around her back and flipped them over so that he hovered just over her face.

"I _love_ you. Present tense, Clarke," he declared.

Clarke beamed underneath him. She pulled herself up and kissed him. Not like before, desperate and passionate, but soft and gentle, as if the whole world around them had stopped just long enough for them to exist in this moment.

* * *

Later, Clarke dressed and ducked out of the tent.

“Clarke!”

She turned to see who was calling her from across the way and she nearly stopped dead in her tracks.

“Wells?” she croaked.

Wells beamed at her, walking carefully across the camp. It was obvious he was hurt but he pulled her into a bear hug the moment they met in the middle. Clarke was completely and utterly speechless and she began crying, tears soaking through his t-shirt.

After awhile, she pulled away, still clutching his arms. “I don’t understand. How are you here?”

“It’s a long story, and I’d rather only tell it once.”

Twenty minutes later, Wells had Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, Miller, Raven and Monty sitting around a round table near the Cantina.

“When I was stabbed, they knew the Coalition was involved. The Council wanted them to think they had gotten a victory, hoping they would slip up. When I came out of the anesthesia, my father told me they were going to hide me away, make the Ark believe I had died. They floated an empty tomb.”

Clarke swallowed thickly.

“They kept me informed on the Coalition’s movements, they told me they found a bug on you Clarke.”

“What?” Clarke gaped.

Wells paused. “You didn’t know?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Clarke said, stunned.

Wells licked his lips. “Well, they knew you were a prime target. They used a desperate delinquent to do their dirty work--”

“Murphy,” she breathed, and Bellamy grabbed her hand under the table. “Wait--” Clarke stopped herself. “If you survived the surgery, then my mother-- my mother knew you were alive, she lied to my face.”

“Clarke--”

Clarke didn’t stop. “And when she found out I was bugged, she didn’t tell me. Bellamy’s mother was _floated_ because of the information they got from that bug!” Angry tears welled up in her eyes.

“She did what she thought was right,” Wells said softly.

“It wasn’t-- it wasn’t right. Dad is gone, I lived for _months_ thinking my best friend was dead. I had to fight tooth and nail to get to Earth because my husband went to save his sister, who was imprisoned just for existing!”

The table fell quiet. Miller looked at Monty. Raven studied Clarke, Bellamy glared at Wells, Octavia remained quiet at the end of the table.

“We don’t have to live by their rules,” Clarke whispered. “Not anymore.”

* * *

Abby gaped at her daughter. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Clarke took a deep breath and straightened her back. “You said down here, things were going to be different. Those kids started a life of their own, without your help. They were sent down here to die, and they _lived_.”

Bellamy nodded along with his wife’s declaration. “We don’t fall under your control anymore. We will remain friendly until we aren’t. Do not try and stop us.”

Abby’s eyes flicked to the group standing behind Bellamy and Clarke. It wasn’t just delinquents. Miller’s father stood next to him proudly. Raven, Wells, Monty, several other adults and various children.

“Clarke, please,” Abby pleaded.

“Our system married me off as an eighteen year old, to a stranger. That made me an adult, capable of making decisions on my own. What’s best for me, for our people--” Clarke waved at the group gathered around her. “--is for us to do this on our own terms, away from the Ark and away from the Council.”

Abby frowned.

“Goodbye, mom.” Clarke stepped forward gave her mother a polite kiss on the cheek, then walked out of camp.

They walked for fifteen minutes before Clarke allowed herself to breathe normal. She and Bellamy were a good twenty paces in front of the rest of the group.

“So,” she breathed, almost laughing with relief. “What happens now?”

"We get to start over.” Bellamy shrugged, smiling. "We get another chance at a life down here, _together_ , Clarke." He stopped so he could look at his wife. "Things can be different down now, we have a chance to make it _better_."

Clarke was grinning, as she always did when Bellamy worked himself up into a passionate frenzy.

"There's no limited oxygen supply down here, no hiding children below floorboards. We can have seven kids if we wanted to."

Clarke snorted. "You want _seven_ kids?"

"I don't know!" he laughed, taking her hand and bringing it to his cheek. "All I know, is I want it with _you_."

* * *

_one year later;_

“Thanks, Daneel,” Clarke said, shoving her shirt down. Hopping off the table, she grabbed her jacket and slid her arms into it. Clarke started for the door, and paused as she reached for the handle. “Um, obviously this needs to stay between us-- until I get a chance to tell him.”

The older woman smiled gently. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Clarke nodded and pushed outside, the light blinding her momentarily. Camp was busy today, she waved at Chief Miller, who was leading a pair of young guards to their new post.

He called out to her, “Remind your husband he has the moonlight shift tonight!”

She smiled. “He knows!” Clarke called back.

She passed Monroe who waved at her.

After finding out Roma had been killed, Monroe left for the dropship camp with the Clarke and Bellamy, to start anew.

Monroe was talking to a pretty girl named Mel, as they spread feed for the chickens in the pen. Clarke felt warmth spread through her at the sight.

Their cabin was on the outskirts of camp, and by the time she got there, she was sweating. Clarke began to peel her jacket off before she even got the door open, throwing it in the general direction of their bed as she crossed the threshold.

“Oof!” a muffled voice protested.

Clarke bit back a laugh. “Sorry, Bellamy!”

Bellamy pulled the jacket off his head, letting it drop onto the floor. “Thanks for that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah.” Clarke clicked her tongue. “I stopped in to see Daneel before my meeting, I thought I should come home before I did anything else.”

Turning around, Bellamy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re talking about housing at the meeting today.”

“Okay,” Bellamy said dumbly.

Clarke blinked.

“Well, we know that Miller is moving out of the house he shares with his dad and into Monty’s,” Clarke explained. “So, David will be living in a two bedroom cabin by himself.”

“Right.”

Clarke sighed, hands clutched gently against her stomach. “So, I thought we could discuss a possible _swap_ at today’s meeting. We could use the extra room.”

“What for-- _oh._ ” Bellamy finally registered. “Are you serious? Are you sure?” Bellamy surged forward, pressing an open palm to her stomach. “Clarke--”

“Bellamy,” she cut him off. “Yes, I’m serious. I’m sure. I’m pregnant.”

Bellamy dropped to his knees and leaned his forehead against his belly. “Oh my god.”

Clarke threaded her fingers through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp. “It’s early, twelve weeks. I wanted to be sure.”

He looked up her, eyes full of love. “I am so excited.”

She beamed down at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replied, rising back onto his feet. Grabbing her face with both hands, Bellamy brought his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. Clarke grasped at his jacket, tugging him closer. He trailed his hands down her back, reaching further to give her ass a squeeze as Clarke grinned against his lips.

“I have a meeting,” Clarke whispered against his lips.

“I’ll be quick,” Bellamy said, nipping at her throat.

Laughter rumbled in her chest and she pushed at him playfully. “Don’t forget we have dinner with Raven tonight, I promised Wells we would be there.”

Bellamy watched Clarke walk backwards towards the door. “Is he ever going to ask her out?”

Clarke shrugged. “Give him time, they both needed healing.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Her hand on the handle, Clarke leaned against the door. “I love you.”

“You already said that,” Bellamy joked.

Clarke flushed, opening the door quietly.

“Just making sure it’s always the last thing I tell you.”

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin.
> 
> \+ [tumblr](http://nathenmiller.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> And a huge thank you goes out to all the people who helped me with this: [Lauren](http://raleighs-innergoddes.tumblr.com), [Jade](http://bellarkehugged.tumblr.com), & [Lorna](http://capseycartwright.tumblr.com) for reading and rereading this monster for me. Giving me notes and feedback. I could not have finished it without you guys.
> 
> I have so much more planned for this story, so stay turned-- subscribe, bookmark. I would love your feedback, and I do my best to reply to all my comments. Thanks for reading, and keep a look out!


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